The Monster Within
by BelleFolie
Summary: Draco returns for his second year at Hogwarts, but there is something wrong. Messages in blood on the walls, petrified victims… Draco finds himself face to face with the monsters hidden in the castle and its grounds, but the real battle is against the monsters inside his heart… Draco is in his second year in Gryffindor.
1. Chapter 1

This the sequel to The Right Thing to Do (check out my profile!). Draco is now in his second year of Hogwarts in Gryffindor house. I hope you enjoy reading it, and if you do, please favourite it and review, and if not, review anyway! All reviews welcome. Thank you for reading! BelleFolie

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"I can't believe you've dragged me along here," Lucius muttered furiously to Narcissa. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. She caught her son's eye. They both looked away.

"You can't be seen to not support the boy," she mumbled, "People will talk. It won't look good, especially not since the Ministry are conducting a search—"

"They shall find nothing," Lucius retorted, "I intend to call at Borgin and Burkes after this. There are some things entrusted to me that I cannot afford to have Ministry find."

Draco looked up at the sky, squinting against the bright, August sun. His mind wandered to the self-cooling ice creams sold by Florian and Fortescue, that had attracted an eager queue of witches and wizards. Over excited first years bounded from shop to shop, drooling over the colour changing inks, magnificent owls and the latest broomstick. "A Nimbus 2001!" He heard one of them gasp, and his heart longed to join them at the shop front, noses pressed against the window until they were shooed away by the owner.

Lucius stopped sharply outside Flourish and Blotts. "Shall we start here?"

Flourish and Blotts was dark inside, in contrast to the bright street. The low ceiling, dark wood and narrow staircase made Draco shudder, despite never having been claustrophobic. It was crammed full of people, jostling themselves into a rather disorderly queue.

"Oh, no," Lucius muttered, "The Weasleys."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. The Weasleys! Ron? Then his heart plummeted. His parents still didn't know he'd spent most of the first year talking to Ron and Hermione. Whenever possible, talk about Hogwarts was avoided at home. His parents would expect him to ignore or even insult Ron. But Ron wouldn't be expecting it. They'd almost been getting on well when they'd parted at the station, what felt like an eternity ago… Draco glanced over his shoulder. Maybe they should just head on to another shop. They could come back here later. If the Weasleys didn't see them, there would be no awkward encounter. Draco seized the courage.

"I think we should just—"

"Arthur." Lucius Malfoy stared down his pointed nose at the crop of red hair in front of him. The smaller man turned around. The smile vanished from his face. "Lucius."

"Quite the little gathering you and your family make," Lucius said, "like breeding mice in a flowerpot. I hope they're paying you overtime at the Ministry, although, judging by your jacket, one would assume not."

Arthur flushed. Ron turned around. His eyes fell on Lucius before staring straight past and meeting Draco's. Draco froze. His mouth flapped open uselessly.

"I have everything I need, thank you," Arthur said stiffly, "a happy home life. Which is more than I can say for some." Lucius' jaw twitched. "After all, money isn't everything." Arthur smiled forcefully.

Lucius returned the smile. "You've clearly lived a sheltered life. This must be why the Minister disregards your opinions."

"How's Draco getting along in Gryffindor?" Arthur asked. "It must be hard, having a son in such a different house."

Lucius froze. "He… has made many friends in Slytherin."

"Has he?" Arthur Weasley raised his eyebrows and gave a little smirk. "That's not what I've heard."

"Then you've been poking your nose in places where it doesn't concern you," Lucius retorted.

Narcissa stepped forward and laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Lucius—" He threw it off angrily.

"Maybe you should ask my son what he's been saying," Arthur said. Ron's face went bright red and he turned away.

"I would sooner converse with my house elf than your son," Lucius snarled.

"My darling, leave it. He's not worth the breath." Narcissa gave Arthur Weasley a withering look, and then whispered into Lucius' ear, "People are watching."

"Let them watch," Lucius snapped, but his voice was nonetheless quieter, "give the Daily Prophet something to write about other than the school or the Saintly Potter."

"Did someone say my name?" Lucius wheeled round. Standing in the doorway was Harry Potter. The entire shop fell silent. Dumbledore, dressed in a deep shade of magenta with a pattern that seemed to flow and turn, stood proudly by his side, one hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Harry Potter." Lucius drifted forwards. He smiled. "Such a pleasure to finally meet you, at last." He gave a reverent bow of the head. "Lucius Malfoy. My wife, Narcissa. I believe you know my son, Draco."

Harry's green eyes slid past Lucius' and met Draco's. He nodded. "Hello, Malfoy."

"Potter."

"How's your arm?"

Draco started. "Fine. Our personal family doctor says I'll have a scar forever." Harry raised his eyebrows. Draco's pointed face flushed.

"Harry Potter? Is that you? Is he here? By Merlin!" From the centre of the crowd exploded a man wearing bright green robes and brandishing a wand. He ran a hand through his long, blond hair and beamed. "Hello, Harry. Dumbledore."

"Lockhart." Dumbledore smiled and stepped forward to shake the wizard's hand. "You're well, I trust?"

"Oh, splendidly, yes, splendidly!" Lockhart pushed past Dumbledore and grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "My, my! The Boy Who Lived! What an honour this is." He seized Harry's hand and shook it vigorously. "You there! Take a picture. Smile, Harry, this is for the Daily Prophet!" Draco watched as Harry gave an awkward smile, and a blinding flash followed by an excess of purple smoke filled the room. Lockhart waved it away with one arm. He ran his fingers through his hair. Behind him, Draco was sure he could hear half the room sigh.

"I have fought many monsters," Lockhart proclaimed loudly, "all of them more terrible than the last. I have walked for hours, nay days, for just one drop of water. But Harry, here, is my own, personal hero." He grinned. "And I feel there is no better time to announce the fact that I was delighted to accept, thanks to the very kind invitation of Professor Albus Dumbledore, the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The whole shop exploded into applause. Another flash and puff of purple smoke made Draco's eyes water.

"I now present Mr Potter with the entirety of my collected works," Lockhart continued, thrusting a pile of books into Harry's arms, "signed." He winked at the camera.

Draco turned away to avoid being blinded again and got a face full of bushy hair.

"Hermione?"

"Draco!" Her eyes lit up and she sprang forward, but Draco recoiled instantly. His eyes darted over to where his father stood, watching Harry Potter with a glowing expression on his face. Hermione followed his gaze. "Oh, right."

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron muttered, appearing at her elbow, "let's leave him to it. He doesn't want to be seen with us when his family are nearby. We're not good enough."

"My father—" Draco began, but Ron shook his head.

"If we really mattered to you, you'd be friends with us all the time, not just when it suits you."

"Ron," Hermione hissed, "Draco's in a very tricky position."

Ron scowled. "Yeah. Sure."

"What's going on here, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy's voice drifted over the heads of the crowd.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

Lucius cast his eyes over Ron and Hermione. "I can tell the Weasley by his freckles and hand me downs, but who are you?"

"Hermione Granger."

"And what house are you in, Miss Granger?"

"Gryffindor."

"Ah." Lucius stiffened. "I see. And what could you possibly want with my son?"

Hermione glanced at Draco, but he was staring at the floor. Ron elbowed her. She blushed.

"Come now, Miss Granger, no need to be shy."

"I met Draco at Hogwarts," she said, "I thought I'd just say hi."

"Ron! Hermione. Shall we step outside, it's a little warm in here." Arthur Weasley smiled at them. His eyes travelled up to Lucius Malfoy. "Something to say, Lucius?"

"Is Miss Granger a friend of your son's?" Lucius asked steadily.

"Yes, I believe so," Arthur replied.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Not a very Wizarding name, Granger, is it?"

"I'm afraid I don't worry too much about names, more about talent," Arthur replied, keeping his gaze level.

Lucius glanced sideways at Hermione's parents, halfway across the shop, gasping at moving pictures in one of the books. "Muggles!" he hissed.

"Let's head outside now," Arthur said firmly to the children, ushering Ginny towards the door.

Lucius clamped his hand on Draco's shoulder. He gasped. "As if associating with the Weasleys wasn't bad enough," Lucius growled, "you've been spending time with a mudblood." Draco felt a tear sting his eye. He stared angrily at the ground, digging his nails into his palm.

Arthur's eyes flashed. "Don't use that word in front of my children, Malfoy."

Lucius drew himself up to his full height. "Try and stop me, Weasley." Arthur licked his lips. "This is your fault that my son has made such acquaintances. If it weren't for you and your blood traitor ideas my son would never—"

"Your son was sorted into Gryffindor." Arthur glared at Draco. "Though I've no idea why. No Malfoy is deserving of such an honour."

"Dad!" Ron muttered.

"It's a disgrace!" Lucius hissed, his pale face suddenly flushing. He released his grip on Draco's shoulder.

"I would love my child no matter what house they were in," Arthur said firmly.

"How dare you," Lucius snarled, "How dare you suggest I do not love my own son?"

He lunged forwards and grabbed one of the tattered books in Ginny Weasley's cauldron. He held it up. "You call this love?" he snorted, "Why, I bet you had to beg to raise the money for this. What kind of father can barely provide for his own children?" He threw the book back into the cauldron and swept out of the shop.

Draco stared up at the others as they stood there in shock. He opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur Weasley pushed past him. "Come along, Ginny. Let's get some air. The rest of you, follow me, please."

Draco hovered desperately as they passed him. The twins ignored him. One of their shoulders knocked roughly against his as they passed. "Ron…" But Ron just glared at him. "You call us your friends? As if."

Only Hermione stopped to talk to him. "Ignore Ron," she whispered, "he's only protective over his family. Everything will be normal once we return to Hogwarts." And with that she left.

Mortified and angry, Draco bit his lip hard until he tasted blood in his mouth. His mother appeared, carrying the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart in her arms. People stared at them, half horrified half thrilled at the spectacle that had unfolded. Narcissa's eyes urged Draco to follow her. Draco cast one final look around the shop. Dumbledore still stood with one hand on Harry's shoulder, having pulled him out the way of the scrap. "Bet you're glad you don't have parents after all, eh, Potter?" Draco sneered. He turned on his heel before Harry could reply and stalked out of the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco was relieved to finally be returning to Hogwarts. His mother and father left him at Kings Cross, Lucius refusing to enter Platform 9¾. Draco quickly found Ron and Hermione aboard the Hogwarts Express, and although he kept an eye out for Harry Potter, he didn't see him. Hermione was easily convinced that Draco's reactions the previous week had been due to the tricky situation he had found himself in, but Ron took more persuading.

"I'm not allowed to mention Hogwarts at home," Draco protested, "my father thinks I've made Slytherin friends— or at least he thinks I should have. If he finds out I'm friends with a Weasley and a muggle born, I might as well be our house elf."

"You're in Gryffindor," Ron muttered, "you're meant to be brave. Stand up for your friends and what you believe in. What's the point if you don't even do that?"  
"Do you think I wanted to be in Gryffindor?" Draco asked hotly, "I would rather be in Slytherin."

Ron stabbed the frayed cushion of the train seat with his wand. "Ron," Hermione said gently, "if Draco tells his father about us, he'll be in so much trouble. I can well imagine he wouldn't want him returning to Hogwarts. You know what his ideas are like. You know how much he hates your family, and muggle borns. Imagine how much he'd hate Draco if he knew Draco spent all his time with us."

Ron shrugged. "I guess so."

But he perked up once they arrived at the school, and their encounter in Diagon Alley was almost entirely forgotten by the time the feast was served. Soon enough, Draco felt as though he'd never left, with Ron complaining through a mouthful of pumpkin pie on the way back to the dormitory that lessons started far too soon, while Hermione practically skipped with joy. "Potions first thing on a Monday," Ron wailed, "that's the last thing I needed!"

But Draco fell back into the pattern of school life almost immediately. True, he wouldn't have picked potions to start the week either, but he'd rather be under the watchful, angry gaze of Snape than at the cold Malfoy Manor. Two weeks in and Draco had put the summer behind him. Even though September was bringing in the cool breeze and the sun chose more often than not to hide behind the clouds, his spirits brightened.

"Gather round, gather round!" Professor Sprout called over the chatter. She pointed at the plant pots set in front of them. "Today's lesson will be on mandrakes. Now, can anyone tell me something about mandrakes?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air, missing Draco's ear by inches. "A mandrake's scream can be fatal to anyone who hears it," Hermione said, "but they can also have restorative properties, such as restoring someone who has been transfigured."

Professor Sprout nodded firmly. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, this lesson I'm going to show you how to repot a seedling mandrake. You need to grasp your mandrake firmly by the leaves and then pull it out and put it in the second pot and pile soil on top." A few students reached for their mandrakes. "But first!" she cried, "You must all put on earmuffs. As Miss Granger said, the cry of a mandrake can be fatal. These are only babies, but they're still strong enough to knock you unconscious. Put your earmuffs on in three, two, one…"

Draco clamped his bright blue earmuffs over his ears. Instantly, all sound vanished. He could hear nothing. He turned to Ron who was similarly taken aback by the sudden lack of sound. Draco laughed at the vivid shade of pink of Ron's fluffy earmuffs that clashed with his bright ginger hair.

Professor Sprout sent a burst of green sparks from the tip of her wand to draw their attention back to the front. She grabbed the leaves of the mandrake and heaved. The ugly, squirming mandrake twisted in her gloved hand, its mouth wide open. Professor Sprout dumped it firmly into another pot and poured soil on it, then gestured for them to do the same.

Draco tugged his mandrake from its pot and hastily dropped it into the second. Ron wrinkled his nose at his mandrake, before giving it a good prod in the stomach, at which its little arms grabbed hold of his finger, causing Draco to have to prod it repeatedly until it let Ron's finger go.

At long last, the mandrakes were potted. Professor Sprout removed her earmuffs and the rest of them followed suit.

"Thank Merlin that's over," Ron muttered, "I could've lost my finger!"

"Should teach you a valuable lesson," Hermione said primly. Ron pulled a face, stepping backwards as he did so, and fell straight into another student.

"Sorry," he mumbled, steadying himself.

"That's alright," the boy said, and then, "are you a Weasley?"

"Yeah. Ron."

"Justin Finch Fletchley." His eyes moved from Ron and landed on Draco. "No need to ask yours," he said. Draco scowled.

"Looking forward to Lockhart's lesson?" Ron asked quickly, removing his grubby apron.

"Absolutely." Justin raised his chin. "You know, my parents nearly sent me to Eton. It's thanks to Lockhart I'm here. It was his books that persuaded my parents to see the usefulness of magic."

"Who would doubt its usefulness?" Draco snorted. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You mean your parents are muggles?"

Justin stiffened. "So what if they are? Even muggle borns can be great wizards. Even greater than some so-called pure bloods."

"Watch who you're talking to, Finch-Fletchley," Draco sneered, "both me and Ron come from pure blood families."

Justin glanced at Ron, who hovered awkwardly by the mandrakes. "I was just saying," he mumbled.

"Well don't," Draco snapped, "you know nothing of what you're talking about. How could you? You didn't grow up like we did. You're not like us."

Justin's face went red. "And what about Granger? She's your friend, isn't she? And she's a muggle born, like me."

"Hermione's not a stuck up, prat," Draco retorted. He glanced at Ron, who was making great efforts not to make eye contact with anyone. "Come on, Ron. Let's not hang around with people who aren't worth our time." Draco pushed past Justin, but the latter grabbed Ron's arm as he passed.

"Don't let him make you into one of his henchmen," he urged.

"No one's making me do anything," Ron muttered, trying to tug his arm free.

"You're more like us than him," Justin said, refusing to let go, "he'll manipulate you, Ron. Don't let him get away with having anything he wants, as usual." Ron pulled his arm free and staggered after Draco, but his ears were already burning pink. "Who's the real stuck up prat?" Justin called after him.

Draco glared at Justin, and then draped his arm over Ron's shoulders and patted him on the back. "Good job, Ron. Good job. That'll show him."

"Get off, Draco," Ron mumbled, shrugging his arm off, "I don't wanna talk about it."

Professor Lockhart's classroom was empty when they entered. Draco stared around the room. Unlike Professor Quirrell's classroom, there were very few images of potentially dangerous beasts. Instead, adorning every wall, were images of Lockhart himself. At the front of the classroom, too big to hang on the wall and so propped up against the staircase was a full-length portrait of Lockhart, beaming out at them with brilliant white teeth.

The door to the teacher's office flew open, and a shower of purple sparks rained down on them. Lockhart stepped out, swathed in matching purple robes. He beamed. "Welcome, welcome," he said, sauntering down the stairs, "to Defence Against the Dark Arts, taught by me, your favourite teacher." He winked at the full-size portrait of himself, who laughed approvingly. Draco and Ron exchanged incredulous glances. They looked over at Hermione, but she was gazing at Lockhart as he swaggered to the front of the classroom.

"Now today's lesson," Lockhart began, "is on little devilish creatures, the likes of which you may never have faced in your current, young lives." He whipped the blue fabric off a spindly cage. Inside, were blue pixies, screaming and swirling.

Seamus Finnigan laughed. "Cornish pixies? Is that all?"

"Don't make the mistake of thinking they're innocent, Mr Finnigan," Lockhart said, tapping the cage with his wand. "They can be devilishly tricky, these little rascals." Seamus continued to laugh. Lockhart licked his lips. "In fact, count it as your first test this term. What do you make of them?" With a sharp tap of his wand, the door to the cage flew open. The pixies shot out.

Within seconds, there was chaos. Students screamed as pixies threw books, ripped up parchment, snapped quills, pulled hair and tore at robes.

"Come on, come on!" Lockhart shouted, "After all, they're only pixies!"

Draco turned to the door, abandoning his books. As he took a step forwards he tripped and fell face down. His chin grazed the flagstone floor. Looking down, he saw that one of the pixies had tied his laces together. He reached for his wand, but no sooner had he drawn it than it was snatched from his fingers. The pixie squealed with delight and raised it above his head. Draco scrambled to grab it, but the pixie shot out of reach. Draco staggered, his laces still tied, and fell into Harry Potter.

Harry pushed him away, glaring at him with his bright green eyes. "Don't touch me, Malfoy!"

Draco seized hold of a desk to stop himself falling. "Touch you? Why would I want to touch you? I'm not one of your worshippers, Potter."

"Harry, come on!" Pansy Parkinson urged the other boy, tugging on his sleeve, her eyes fixated on something going on behind Draco's head. Both boys turned to look. Neville had been lifted off the ground and was being dangled from the ceiling. The pixies cackled, and one shot sparks out of the end of Draco's wand.

"Let's go, Harry," Blaise Zabini agreed, beginning to run for the door.

"See you around, Malfoy," Harry said.

Draco lunged forwards, trying to push Harry out of the way as he made a frantic leap towards the door. His shoes snagged and he fell again. "Better luck next time," Harry said, hopping neatly over Draco's body and out through the open door.

"Pathetic!" Came Lockhart's voice above the small din. He raised his wand. "Pixie p—" But before he could finish, another pixie swept forwards and seized his wand. Lockhart froze. "I'll, uh…" He grinned at Draco. "Leave you three to clear up."

Draco stared desperately around him. Ron was cowering under a desk, whacking any pixie that came near him with Lockhart's heftiest book. Hermione was wrestling with a pixie pulling on her hair. Another grabbed the back of her robes, and a third got hold of her shoe.

Draco crawled across the floor. He picked up a discarded copy of one of Lockhart's book and held it tight to his chest as he squirmed nearer and nearer to Hermione. Struggling to his knees, he swung the book back and smashed it into one of the little blue creatures. The pixie flew across the room.

Hermione gasped. She stared at Draco. "Do something!" he said urgently.

Hermione nodded and whipped out her wand. She glanced up at the ceiling, filled with pixies. "Immobilis!" she shouted. At once, all the pixies froze in mid-air, unable to move. They drifted serenely through the sudden silence.

Ron collapsed into a seat. "Bloody hell!"

"Don't sit down," Hermione exclaimed, "we need to get them in the cage first."

"What about me?" Came a voice from above, and they all craned to see. Neville swung limply from the ceiling. "Can you help me down? Please?"


	3. Chapter 3

"You have to point your wand at it," Seamus was telling Ron at breakfast, "like this." He pointed his own wand at the oak box.

"I know I've got to point my wand," Ron snapped, "I'm not a squib."

"No, but you've got to point your wand like this, and wave it as if you're about to hit the box with your wand. But don't."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I almost prefer your teaching, Hermione. At least you don't lecture me on how to hold a wand."

"Do you want to be able to do this charm in time for class or not?" Seamus demanded.

Ron sighed. "Oh, alright then." He raised his wand.

"As if you're going to hit the box."

Ron waved his wand, stopping just short of the little black box.

"No," Seamus shook his head, "give it here." He took Ron's wand out of his hands and pointed it forcefully at the box. The box, instead of spinning on the spot, exploded. Little shards of black wood went flying in all directions. Ron stared miserably at his bowl of cereal, now with little bits of wood swimming in the milk.

"Really," Hermione sighed, "the two of you are a walking disaster."

Ron snatched his wand out of Seamus' hand. His mouth fell open in horror. "What have you done?"

Seamus' eyes widened. "I'm sorry! Ron, I'm so sorry."

Ron's wand had a large crack about the length of quill nib two inches from the tip. Hermione glared at Seamus. "I'm really, really sorry…" Seamus tried again, but Ron ignored him.

"What's going on here?" Draco asked, taking a seat next to Hermione. He noticed the bits of wood covering the table.

"Seamus broke my wand," Ron said through gritted teeth.

Seamus quickly got up and left the table, with the promise of finding some Spellotape to fix the wand. "Bloody idiot," Ron muttered, "doesn't he know that nothing can fix a wand?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine for spells," Hermione said unconvincingly.

"How did he break your wand?" Draco asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, "I thought wands were hard to break, especially new ones." Ron flushed pink and lowered his wand.

A flash from across the hall made Draco roll his eyes. "Potter's got himself a fan," he grumbled.

"Don't be so jealous, Draco," Ron muttered.

"I don't need to be jealous," Draco said, a smirk on his face.

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

"You'll see." Draco watched another flash go off across the hall. "I bet he's giving out signed photographs," he continued, jabbing his spoon at the cereal, "Creevey's meant to be in Gryffindor. He's not supposed to be some kind of Slytherin worshipper."

"Since when did you hate Slytherins so much?" Ron snapped, "Leave him alone. If Colin Creevey wants to take a picture of the Boy Who Lived to show his family back home, who are you to stop him?" Ron glanced at Ginny sat not far from them down the table. She was scribbling away in a little black book. "What are you writing about?"

Ginny jumped, snapping the book shut. "Nothing."

Ron sighed. "Well, maybe you want to write to mum and tell her I need a new wand. She won't be angry if _you_ tell her."

"A new wand?" Ginny asked, "But that'll be expen—"

Ron cleared his throat loudly, glancing nervously at Draco. "Well, I can't keep using this one."

"Just give it a try," Hermione suggested, "maybe it's not as bad as you think."

Ron screwed up his face, concentrating hard on the milk jug in front of him. The milk started to boil, little white bubbles bursting on its surface. His face fell.

"What is it?" Hermione asked anxiously at the sight of Ron's glum face.

"I was trying to make the milk freeze over."

Heads turned in the Gryffindor common room. Whispers rippled. Even the portraits nudged each other. Seven students did their best to ignore the whispers and marched on through, heads and brooms held high. More whispers, even some pointing.

"Is that a Nimbus 2001?"

"Harry Potter only has a Nimbus 2000!"

Draco smirked. He clutched the black broom in his hand, feeling the weight of his new Quidditch robes. They would never be green, but at least he had some.

Heads continued to turn as they headed on towards the Quidditch pitch. "Just keep walking," Oliver Wood muttered, and then to Katie Bell, "you'd have thought we'd be used to people staring and pointing at us by now."

"So long as he's better than the last one," Katie murmured back, "not that Blenkinsop was awful, only…"

"No, I agree," Wood whispered, "Charlie Weasley's a tough act to follow, but by Merlin we could have done with someone better." He glanced over his shoulder at Draco, smiling smugly. "But I wouldn't have chosen a Malfoy to be on our team."

"Wood!" A lanky Slytherin boy jumped up off a bench and came running to block the path of the Gryffindors. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Flint," Wood said stiffly, "what does it look like? We're going to the Quidditch pitch to practice." He took a deep breath. "To train our new seeker."

Flint's eyebrows rose. "You've got a new seeker? What happened to the last one, I quite liked him, could never seem to catch the snitch."

"I assure you I can do better than him," Draco said, stepping out from behind Wood.

Flint's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Oh," he said, one hand rising to his mouth to cover his laughter, "oh!" He burst out into a fit of wheezing laughter. "Sorry, sorry," he cried, "but a… a _Malfoy_ playing on the _Gryffindor_ team?"

"A Potter playing on the Slytherin team?" Wood scowled, but Flint ignored him.

"Oh, how far the great Malfoys have fallen," Flint said, taking a step closer to Draco, "my parents will be disappointed. It's a shame your parents didn't have any other kids to make them proud. How does it feel knowing you're such a failure to your family?"

Draco stepped forward, his hand reaching for his wand.

"Enough!" Wood snarled, putting himself between the two of them. "Leave him alone, he's just a kid."

Flint's sharp eyes travelled from Wood's face down the broom handle. "Well, what do we have here?" he asked, grinning, his mouth too full of teeth. He reached out his fingers to stroke the top of the handle, but Wood jerked it away. "A Nimbus 2001?" His smooth voice betrayed just a hint of jealousy.

"A gift," Wood replied, "from Draco's father."

"Do you mean a bribe?" Flint asked.

Wood's jaw clenched. "No, a gift, for allowing his son a position on our team."

"Must have been hard letting Blenkinsop go," Flint said, "but then again… for a Nimbus 2001…" He tutted, but his eyes gazed longingly at the sleek, black brooms.

"Draco?" Draco span round. Hermione and Ron were hesitantly approaching.

Draco held out his broom. "Do you like my broom?" he asked, "I know you like brooms, Ron. It's a Nimbus 2001."

"I can see what it is!" Ron said breathlessly.

"Everyone on the team's got one," Draco continued, "a gift from my father, to say thank you for letting me on the team."

Ron's eyes widened, but Hermione's narrowed. She glanced at Wood, but he looked away. "Can I hold it?" Ron gasped.

Draco held it out to him. "Be my guest." Ron took it reverently, running his hand along the curve of the broom and caressing the silver writing with his thumb.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed to Draco.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied.

"You and your father hardly get along," she replied, "why has he done this?"

Draco scowled. "I don't know, but I'm his son. Why shouldn't he support me?"

"It's not just you, it's the Gryffindor team." She glanced behind them. "I can more easily see him supporting the Slytherin team over the Gryffindor team, even with you in it!"

"You don't know him," Draco snapped.

"I've met him."

"Once!" He glared at her. "Why is it that as soon as I take on something I love and try and reunite myself with my father you try and tear that apart?"

"No, Draco, I didn't mean—"

"Forget it." He stepped forward and snatched the broom out of Ron's hands. "Let's just go."

Wood nodded at the rest of the team. "Alright, to the pitch."

Ron gazed after them longingly. "Can we go and watch them practice?"

"No," Hermione mumbled.

"But on Nimbus 2001s, Hermione."

"No, Ron! I said no."

Ron scowled. "Draco's right after all, you and your books. You know nothing about what really matters."

" _Quidditch_ is what really matters?" She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly.

Ron grinned and shrugged. "Quidditch is life."


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! Hope you're enjoying it so far though I know not much has happened yet. Please keep reading and I hope you like this chapter! Would be great if you could leave a review too!

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"I can't believe that!" Hermione snorted.

"It's true!" Ron insisted as the three of them made their way out of the dining hall early and back to the Gryffindor common room. "Dad enchanted it. It's got an invisibility button and everything! So muggles don't see it flying about."

"But what would you need a flying car for?" Draco asked, "Why not just use a broom?"

"You can get more people in a car," Ron said, "and besides, it's just more fun, really."

"It's impressive," Hermione conceded, "but I'm with Draco. A broom is probably faster too, because it's more streamlined."

"More what?" Ron frowned.

Draco nudged Ron. "Look there," he said, pointing at a lone figure at the end of the corridor. "Well, if it isn't Potter, the Slytherin Prince," Draco crowed.

"Stop it, Draco," Ron moaned, "leave the kid alone."

"I agree," Hermione said, her voice carrying a touch of concern, "leave him, Draco." He shrugged her arm off. "He's not worth it!"

Draco strode forwards. His feet splashed. He looked down to see the ends of his robes hanging in an inch of water. "Don't tell me you've wet yourself again, Potter," Draco sneered, a grin breaking onto his face. Harry was motionless, staring at something on the wall. "What is it, Potter?" he asked, "Cat got your t—"

A shudder ran down Draco's spine and he stopped dead. Mrs Norris, Filch's cat, was hanging stiffly by her tail. Draco's heart pounded.

"Look at the words," Harry gasped.

Draco stepped back. Daubed across the wall was written: _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

"Is that…?" Draco gasped.

"What's the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione, but she shook her head.

"Potter! Malfoy!" Filch's rasping voice echoed down the corridor, making them all jump. Behind them, from each direction, students appeared, chatting loudly. Draco began to back away. A sudden hush fell over the students as they saw Mrs Norris and the writing.

Filch's face turned from one of glee to one of horror. "My…" he gasped, "my cat. You… You've killed my cat." Both boys froze in terror. "Which one of you was it?" Filch roared, his voice almost breaking. "Which one?" They both shook their heads.

Filch's chin trembled and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "I'll kill ya," he said, "I will. I'll kill both o' ya!"

Draco leapt backwards and knocked straight into Harry as Filch's hand shot towards them.

"Argus!" Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the corridor as he swept into sight, students parting instantly to let him through.

"They…" Filch said, choking, "they've killed my cat!" A tear spilled from his eye. "Mrs Norris," he whispered.

Dumbledore stared at Mrs Norris and at the wall behind her. He waded through the water and gently touched her. Her stiff body swung slowly. Dumbledore looked over his shoulder and nodded briefly at Professor McGonagall.

"All students back to their common rooms," she announced. No one moved. "Now, please!"

Reluctantly, the students shuffled away. "Harry, Draco," Dumbledore said, "you stay." Draco stared at Ron and Hermione. Ron bit his lip but turned away. Hermione followed him, looking back over her shoulder as she went.

"I swear, Professor," Draco began, stepping forwards.

"Hush, Draco," Dumbledore said.

Draco ground his teeth together. "No!" he exploded, "You'll all think I had something to do with it. I demand that I be allowed to speak, or else my father—"

"I know you had nothing to do with this, Draco," Dumbledore said firmly, raising his hand for silence.

McGonagall sprang forward in Draco's stunned silence. "How dare you answer back to the headmaster," she hissed to Draco, "five points from Gryffindor! You might get your way at home, getting whatever you want, but that is not how it works here." She turned to Dumbledore. "Albus. What can this mean?"

Dumbledore paused before replying. "I have seen this before," he murmured, "a girl… For now, we must not panic."

"But if the Chamber has been opened again," McGonagall protested, "then Hogwarts… This could be the beginning of the end." Dumbledore didn't reply. Exasperated, McGonagall span round and her eyes fell on the two boys. "Which one of you got here first?" Both stuttered. "One of you got here before the other, I know that much. I can't much see you walking hand in hand around the corridors." Lockhart stifled a laugh.

"He did," Draco said.

"Is this true, Potter?"

"Yes, Professor."

McGonagall looked from one to the other. "Well, I remember seeing Mr Malfoy at dinner, but you… Potter, where were you at dinner?"

"I was—"

"My fault entirely, Professor," Lockhart said, striding forwards, swirling his pale blue cloak as he went, "I was talking to Harry, we were discussing fame and celebrity. I rather held him up."

"Surely, as his head of house, it might be more prudent if I were to talk to Mr Potter about any issues of fame or celebrity," Snape said, his eyes narrowing at Professor Lockhart.

"Yes, well," Lockhart said, "forgive me for saying it, but you don't have much experience in the area, do you, Professor Snape? Whereas I do. We had a little chat, man to man, about it." He cleared his throat. His eyes drifted over to Harry. "But that was some time ago…"

Harry shook his head. "I swear, Professor, it wasn't me."

"What's happened to my cat?" Filch burst out, his tear stained face trembling.

"She has been petrified, Argus," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Petrified?"

"Yes, petrified. Don't worry, it's perfectly reversible."

"I have some mandrakes on the verge of adolescence," Professor Sprout said, "soon, once they're adults, we can take the leaves and make a restorative draft."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly.

Filch shook his finger at the two boys. "I want to see punishment!"

"Might I point out, Professor," Snape said quickly, gliding forwards, "petrification such as this requires highly advanced dark magic, that these two boys are entirely incapable of producing."

"Dark magic," Filch sneered, "and you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Please," Dumbledore said, holding up his hands for calm, "I am fully aware that neither Harry nor Draco would be capable of producing such dark magic." He looked at them both sternly. "They are completely innocent. Now, return to your dormitories, at once."


	5. Chapter 5

So sorry it's been so long since the last upload! I'm gonna get back on top of this and keep on writing until it's finished, hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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Professor McGonagall glared at them all through her sharp eyes. "This particular transfiguration requires great concentration." She looked around for a victim. "Mr Weasley." Ron groaned. "None of that now. One, two, three, vera verto."

Ron glanced at Draco who nodded. He sat up straight and produced his wand, which had an ominous crack two inches from the tip. He tapped the end of it three times on Scabbers' back. "Vera verto."

Scabbers squealed as he was transformed into a hairy goblet with whiskers and a tail.

The class laughed, but McGonagall gave him a stern look. "Fix that wand, Weasley."

"Yes, Professor."

"Professor!" Hermione's hand flew into the air.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I was wondering…" She glanced about the room. "If you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

The whole class fell silent. Ron lowered the furry goblet. Neville stopped sniffing. Harry Potter's head raised. All eyes turned to Professor McGonagall.

Unnerved by the sudden and complete silence, she hesitated for a moment, drawing her wand close to her chest. "Yes, well. I suppose… I suppose you must learn about it sooner or later." She hesitated again, her eyes sweeping the room. "There were four founders of Hogwarts: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. Now, Salazar believed that Hogwarts should only be for pure blood wizards, and not open for muggle borns. His pure blood ways put him at odds with the other founders and he was forced to leave the school. Now, legend has it," she strongly emphasised the word, "that he left behind a secret chamber in which was hidden something that only the heir of Slytherin would be able to control and bring his justice to the school." She went to say something more, but held herself back. "Well." She turned to sweep towards the front of the classroom.

"What's meant to be hidden?" Harry Potter's voice stopped her in her tracks. Draco's stomach twisted. Slowly, Professor McGonagall turned around.

"A monster."

"But what kind of monster, Professor?" Harry insisted.

McGonagall simply shrugged. "Legend was not specific. It only said 'a monster'."

Rumours flew around the school. Despite Dumbledore's public admission that neither Harry nor Draco could have harnessed such dark magic, the fingers were still pointed at them, but mainly at Draco. His smug air that Harry was evidently the one to blame quickly turned to sulkiness as students turned against him. His protestations that Harry had been the one at the scene of the crime when he had arrived fell on deaf ears, and gained him more enemies than allies. Things worsened still when Seamus Finnigan let it slip that he had seen Draco leave the meal halfway through and return with a smug smile, tucking his wand back up his sleeve.

On the way to the following potions lesson, Draco felt something tug on the end of his sleeve. It was Hermione. She gently pulled him to one side and shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"What is it?" Draco asked, slightly tersely, "Hurry up, I don't want to be late for potions."

"I just… needed to ask you…" she mumbled, "Ron and I were wondering… About the petrification of Mrs Norris… where did you go during dinner?"

Draco stared at her. Hermione blushed and looked away. "I told you. To the toilet." Hermione looked up at him slightly nervously. "Oh, come on, Hermione!" he exclaimed, "The toilets are in the opposite direction to the place where Mrs Norris was found." Suddenly it dawned on him. "Unless you're saying… You think I'm lying?"

Hermione fidgeted desperately with the corner of her potions book. "I'm only asking," she whispered, "I need to be sure."

"You don't trust me?"

"There are so many rumours…" Hermione burst out, "I didn't know what to think. I… I—" She hid her face behind her book. "Your whole family was in Slytherin and you're not. And your father's taught you so many pureblood ideas. Maybe it's… revenge that you're not..."

"Revenge? On who? On Dumbledore? On the school?" Draco's blood boiled. "You think I would petrify Filch's scrawny cat to get a bit of attention?"

"No," Hermione mumbled, her face still hidden, "I… I just wanted to hear it from you."

"Well now you have," Draco snapped, "happy?" And with that, he left Hermione cowering against the wall and marched into the classroom.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a little while before things calmed down completely. Murmurs about Draco being the heir soon lessened, and the whole school (apart from the Slytherins) seemed mutually united that Harry was the most likely candidate to be the heir of Slytherin. But there was no way of proving this. The three of them met in the library, at Hermione's hasty request. She had promptly disappeared on arrival, leaving Draco and Ron to entertain themselves with music scripts in the library, which would sing the song when you opened them.

At last, she reappeared. Draco leant on the back of a chair, resting his backside on his hands. Ron leant on the chair next to him, folding his arms across his chest. Hermione glanced cautiously around them before standing opposite them.

"What is it you wanted tell us?" Ron asked.

"About the heir of Slytherin," Hermione said breathlessly.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco asked, "It's obviously Potter." Ron gave a nod of agreement. "Everyone says so."

Hermione nodded. "I know."

"Who else could it be?" Draco muttered.

"The problem is we can't prove it," Ron said.

Hermione shook her head. "But I think we can." Both boys stared at her. She kept her voice low. "Polyjuice potion."

"What?" Ron frowned.

"It allows the drinker to turn into anyone they so desire," she said breathlessly, "as long as they're human. And you have to have a piece of them."

"A piece of them?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "What, like a finger?"

"No, no, of course not! Like a strand of hair. Or a toenail."

"Ugh." Ron shuddered, "I'm not eating anyone's toenails for dinner, thank you very much."

"And then what?" Draco asked

"And then you become exactly like them," Hermione said impatiently, glaring at Ron, "haven't you been listening? This way, we can prove it's him."

"Honestly, Hermione," Ron said, "I'm not sure we need to. He's in Slytherin and he can speak to snakes, just like Salazar Slytherin. I bet even Dumbledore thinks he's the heir!"

Draco shook his head. "No, Hermione's right. We've got to prove it."

Hermione produced a book from behind her back. "I got this out of the restricted section," she said, "it tells us everything. But it's complicated." She turned to the page marked Polyjuice Potion. "I've not heard of some of these ingredients before, and have no idea where we'll get them from!"

"The potions cupboard!" Draco exclaimed.

"What if Snape catches us?" Ron asked, his voice rising slightly.

"I'll distract him, the two of you run and get the ingredients," Hermione said firmly.

"When?" Draco asked instantly as Ron squirmed beside him.

"Tomorrow," she said, "in our next potions class. This potion takes a month to brew, we don't have any time to waste!"

Draco glanced across the potions classroom at Hermione. She was carefully stirring her swelling solution, glancing at Snape.

"Stop staring," Ron muttered in Draco's ear, "people'll notice something's wrong."

"Sorry." Draco stared at their own potion.

Ron leant over and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling. "Is it meant to smell like a troll just died?"

"Well you do it then," Draco handed the spoon to Ron.

"Maybe there's a spell you can cast…" Ron mumbled, pulling out his broken wand.

"I'd rather taste test it," Draco said, pushing Ron's wand away from the cauldron.

A loud bang from the other side of the room made them all jump. Hermione and Neville's swelling solution had exploded, sending drops everywhere. Chair legs, books and other cauldrons began to grow, increasing in size at a steady yet alarming rate. Hermione squealed. Neville gave a cry of horror as his chest began to inflate, getting bigger and bigger, his arms and legs staying the same size.

Draco leant to try and see Hermione's face, but her hands were covering it and she'd turned her back. He saw Harry Potter and his friends laughing from across the room.

"Draco, we've gotta go!" Ron hissed, tugging on Draco's sleeve. Draco nodded and stumbled out into the corridor after Ron.

"It's got to be along here somewhere…" Ron muttered as they practically ran down the corridors. "If only we had a map…"

"Here!" Draco came a stop outside a little cupboard with a black door. He tried the handle. "Locked."

Ron pulled out his wand. "I'll open it." He pointed his wand. "Alohomora." The spell shot out of the back end of his wand and into his chest. Ron doubled over as Draco laughed.

"I think you need a new wand," Draco said, taking out his own.

"You don't say," Ron gasped, massaging his chest.

Once open, the boys scrambled through the door and into the little cupboard.

"What was it we needed?" Ron asked.

"Lacewing flies," Draco said.

"Lacewing flies…" Ron repeated, starting to scan the shelves.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Accio lacewing flies!"

The bottle burst out from behind others and flew directly into his hands. Ron glanced over Draco's shoulder. "Accio bicorn horn!" A bicorn horn jumped off the shelf and whizzed towards them, striking Draco solidly on the back of the head. "Ron!" He snapped, thrusting the list into his hands. "Just read to me what there is and I'll get it!"

"Alright then," Ron mumbled, as Draco stopped to pick up the now broken horn.

"No one's coming, are they?" Draco asked.

"Lemme check," Ron replied, stepping back out of the cupboard.

As he did so, something on the shelf caught Draco's eye. A small vial filled with a golden substance gleamed in the light. "Liquid luck," Draco muttered to himself. He knew what it was and had seen it before, on sale in Knocturn Alley. His father liked to keep a stock of it just in case of… well, Draco wasn't entirely sure. But he reached out and plucked it from the shelf, tucking it into his pocket.

"No one there," Ron said, "but that doesn't mean someone won't come. Quick! Leeches."

Once they had all the ingredients, they stowed them away in their robes and tripped out of the store cupboard, grins on their faces. They shut the door firmly and began to head towards their next class when: "Oi! You two!" They jumped.

"Filch!" Draco muttered, without turning around. "Run!" Clutching their bulging robes to their chests, they ran as fast as they could down the corridors. "The tower!" Draco panted.

They reached the Gryffindor Tower, deserted except for Neville's toad which bounced happily on an armchair, dumped all the ingredients in their room, and headed back downstairs. "McGonagall's not gonna be happy we're late," Ron sighed.

"I think it was worth it," Draco said, reaching for the door, "I just can't believe we got away with it!" The door opened. On the other side stood Filch, out of breath, red faced, but triumphant. He seized both boys by the robes and marched them directly to Dumbledore's office.

...

Filch barged through the door, barely waiting for Dumbledore to call, and threw the boys into the room. Dumbledore looked up, surprised. "Mr Filch. May I help you?"

Filch's finger trembled as he pointed at them. "These boys have been stealing from the potions cupboard."

Dumbledore stared at them in surprise.

"No," Draco stuttered, shaking his head, "we—"

"Silence!" Filch shouted, "Don't lie, I saw you! You Malfoys are all the same."

Draco went bright red. "I don't think—" he began, turning on Filch, but Ron grabbed him. "Stop it, Draco."

"Draco," Dumbledore called from his balcony, "leave Mr Filch alone, if you please."

Filch stuck his chin in the air and smirked at Draco. Draco gave a cold, unfeeling smile back.

"You may go now, Mr Filch," Dumbledore said.

Filch's face twisted. "But these two—"

"You may go," Dumbledore repeated, "I will take care of them."

Reluctantly, Filch headed towards the door, mumbling to himself. Dumbledore waited until the door was closed, before saying, "I'll be with you both in a moment," and disappearing.

The two boys exchanged anxious looks. Draco nodded at the door, but Ron shook his head. "Not now."

Draco stepped forwards and wandered about the room. It hadn't changed at all since he'd last been here, with his father…

Just to the right of the desk sat a bird, frail and weak. Draco moved closer. "Hello, you," he said, extending a finger towards the bird. "And what are you called?"

The bird took one, long look at him. Then it threw its head back and burst into flames.

Draco jumped back and Ron let out a small shout. They stared at each other and then made a rush for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice of Dumbledore stopped them.

"Sorry, Professor," Draco apologised, "I didn't mean to do anything, but your bird—"

"My phoenix." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Oh." Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have you never seen a phoenix before, either of you?" Dumbledore asked, beckoning them to come forwards. They both shook their heads. Dumbledore beckoned them still closer.

"Look, in the ashes," he said, pointing, "they are reborn." The phoenix reared its little head. "Ah. How beautiful." Dumbledore smiled. "This is Fawkes." He moved to take a seat behind his desk. "Quite incredible creatures really. Did you know they can carry extremely heavy loads and that their tears have healing powers?" He stared at them. "The potions cupboard?"

"We…" Ron mumbled.

"We wanted to try brewing a potion on our own," Draco said, feeling Ron's eyes burning into the side of his head, "for revision purposes. Outside of lesson times." Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I want to get better at potions," Draco added, "and Ron needs to." Ron glared at him.

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said, "Ron?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"But I presume Professor Snape wouldn't give you the ingredients you need?"

"No, he wouldn't."

Dumbledore looked at them both closely. His eyes, through his half moon spectacles, were a brilliant blue, both alight and piercing at the same time. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me, Draco? Ron?"

They shook their heads. "Nothing, Professor," Draco said.

Dumbledore paused for a few moments. "Very well. Be careful with your potion making. I hear one went very wrong in today's lesson."

"We will, sir," Draco said, "very careful."

They staggered outside. "He didn't believe us," Ron whispered as they hopped onto the revolving staircase.

Draco glanced over his shoulder at the heavy wooden door as it disappeared from sight. "Well why didn't he do anything, then? And how did he know about the potion in today's lesson?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, but everyone's always said he's been a bit batty." He groaned suddenly. "McGonagall's gonna go mental."


	7. Chapter 7

Draco pushed himself further into the armchair in the common room. People were staring at him, whispering. He glared at them, and they quickly looked away. He glanced over his shoulder and saw another group muttering, their eyes fixed on him. At his gaze, they turned away. He turned back to face the fire, but saw Ron watching him. "What?" He snapped.

"Nothing," Ron muttered, slightly too quickly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You too? I expected better of you, Ron." He glared defiantly around him. "I'm going up to the dormitory." Everyone stared at him as he left the common room and climbed the staircase, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor.

"Who else could it be? He's doing it to get revenge, for being sorted into Gryffindor."

Draco threw open the door. Dean, Seamus and Neville's mouths fell open. Draco glared at them all, before slamming the door shut again without saying a word. He stormed back down the stairs.

"Draco," Wood called to him across the room, "can I speak to you? Is now a good time?"

Draco shrugged. "What is it?"

Wood licked his lips. "Well, I know this is a difficult time for you," he started, "and I was thinking that maybe you shouldn't play in the upcoming match." Draco's heart fell. His chest tightened. "What with all this about the Chamber of Secrets, and your family being very… Slytherin…" Wood shifted uncomfortably, "that is, with their very pureblood ideas. You're the only member not to be in Slytherin, and it's no secret that that's the house you'd rather be in…" He took a deep breath. "Look, what I'm saying is, it may not be wise to let you play against Slytherin in the upcoming match. Blenkinsop has offered to take up his role as seeker— temporarily—"

"You think I'm the heir of Slytherin," Draco snapped. Heads turned.

"No," Wood said, but he couldn't meet Draco's eye, "ab-absolutely not. No, only, some people have made the suggestion that, despite being in Gryffindor, you might have… you might have some pureblood ideology sympathies… sympathies with some of the Slytherins on the Quidditch team. And that it might be wise to… to…" He cleared his throat. "To encourage you to step down from this match."

Tears stung Draco's eyes. He blinked them away furiously. "But it's my first match," he said, "my first Quidditch match. I'm not the heir! I'm not going to sabotage a Quidditch match just because my family were in Slytherin— that's stupid!"

"No, no, I know," Wood said, taking a deep breath, "only, it might be wiser—"

"I don't care!" Draco shouted, and everyone else turned to stare as well, "I'm not the heir! I didn't open the Chamber, or attack Mrs Norris. If it was anyone, it was Potter! He got there first, he's in Slytherin. I've done nothing wrong. I'm in Gryffindor."

"That doesn't…" But Wood let his voice tail off.

"But that doesn't _what?"_ Draco snarled, "Stop me from being the heir?" He laughed, but it was a laugh of mania and anger. "D'you really think that? I'm not Slytherin's heir! And I won't miss my first match because of you lot!" He stormed towards the door. He heard someone call his name from behind him, but he ignored it. Draco burst out of the common room, hearing the Fat Lady give a little gasp. He rounded on her. "If you dare so much as think that I opened the Chamber I'll slash your portrait to pieces!" he snarled.

"Draco!" Hermione stumbled out of the common room and grabbed his arm. He shook it off. She grabbed it again. "Draco, wait!"

"Why?" he shouted, "why should I? I want to be alone. Why don't you understand that?"

"You can't be alone," Hermione said breathlessly, "people will talk."

"Let them, see if I care," Draco retorted.

"You do care, and I know it," she said, "and that's a good thing, Draco."

He glared at her for a few moments, but then he dropped to the floor and sat on the top step of the staircase. Hermione sat down next to him.

"Everyone thinks I'm the heir of Slytherin," he began, "but how can I be? I'm not even in Slytherin. Just because my whole family were and now I'm not. I'm the disappointment of my family, and they think I'm doing it to get revenge."

"I don't."

He snorted. "You did. Don't lie."

Hermione bit her lip. "Me and Ron have come to the conclusion that you are not the heir of Slytherin."

" _Come to the conclusion?_ How long did that take you?"

Hermione's patience seemed to snap. "Look," she said firmly, "revenge is a reason— one that isn't entirely unlikely— that you might have done that. And the fact remains that you did leave the dining hall during dinner. You could have done it, Draco. But Ron and I don't think you did."

" _Thanks_."

Hermione gasped in exasperation. "I'm trying to help you here! And you being miserable and shouting at everyone and deciding to leave the common room alone is not helping. What are they meant to think when you keep acting moody and suspiciously?"

"I'm not!"

"You are!" She looked at him for a few, long moments, before saying, "come back inside."

Draco scowled. "No. They all think I did it."

"Come back inside."

"Did you not hear me, Granger?"

"I heard you," she said, "but I don't think you heard me. Staying out here won't help you." He frowned. "Come back inside." Her voice was soft and pleading. "Please?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever you say." He got up and stomped back towards the Fat Lady, who glared at him viciously. "But I want Dean, Seamus and Neville to stop talking about me."

Hermione nodded. "I'll talk to them."

"Good." Draco took a deep breath, and prepared to re-enter the common room.

...

The day of the Quidditch match dawned bright and clear. The perfect weather for a match against Slytherin. Wood glanced down at the small, pale boy standing next to him. He took a deep breath, deciding that he needed to speak to him. "You nervous, at all, Draco?"

"Nervous?" Draco asked, "Why would I be nervous? Being nervous is for cowards!"

"Well, what with Harry Potter being the opposing seeker—"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Just because he's the youngest seeker in a century."

"Yeah, because he's damn good at what he does," Wood said.

"I'll catch it," Draco said firmly.

"Just make sure you do," Wood replied, his face grim.

The curtains in front of them lifted. They mounted their brooms and took to the air.

All the Quidditch practices in the world couldn't have readied Draco for what the stadium would be like when it was heaving with people. Students were crammed into every tiny space on the top floors. Their elbows poked over the edges, arms waving little flags, either red and gold or green and silver. Hats were pulled firmly down over ears, and necks had disappeared from view under their brightly coloured scarves.

As the players flew into the air, the stadium roared. Draco couldn't keep the smile off his face, as his heart soared as high as his broom. Madam Hooch freed the snitch, the bludgers, and at last, the quaffle. The game had begun!

Heart hammering in his chest, Draco took a sweep round of the stadium, speeding past the Gryffindor stand. The stand seemed to light up as students screamed in delight and waved their flags excitedly, basking in the rush of wind that left his broom.

"Whoa," Ron gasped, his eyes wide as saucers, "look at the Gryffindor brooms go!"

And indeed, the Nimbus 2001s shot across the pitch, no match for the simple brooms of the Slytherins. The Gryffindor players were little more than blurred streaks of red and gold. The first points of the match, to Gryffindor, were scored within minutes.

Draco retreated to a high position above all the other players and scanned for the snitch. Nothing. He caught sight of a little green player just below him, with scruffy black hair. Potter. He considered diving just next to him, to give him a fright, but then decided against it. Harry moved off, circling the pitch.

Through the speaker used by Lee Jordan in the Professors' box, Draco heard that the next points had been scored by Slytherin. His stomach twisted. Sometimes, he still wasn't sure which house he felt more affinity towards.

The realisation shocked him. He felt a pang in his chest. He saw another green player flying below him and gritted his teeth. Slytherin was not his home, no matter how much he wished it might be.

He plunged the broom downwards and mixed in with the throng of other players. He ducked and swerved bludgers and players, trying to get his mind to focus on the game. He swept past the Gryffindor crowd and heard them scream his name. He grinned. His heart rate began to pick up again, and he circled the pitch, his eyes searching for the snitch. All accusations of him being the heir of Slytherin seemed to have vanished. The same could be said for Harry Potter. He, too, had not been unscathed by rumours, but now, with the excitement of the match building, all grudges seemed forgotten.

He could hear more screaming coming from the stands. His eyes suddenly started to seek out Harry— was he speeding after the snitch? Harry was busy ducking a bludger. Draco relaxed. But when as looked back, Harry ducked another bludger that whizzed over his head straight for Draco.

Draco rolled his broom to get out the way. He breathed a sigh of relief. A shooting sound next to his ear nearly toppled him off his broom in shock, as the same bludger shot past him, straight for Harry. Harry dodged it and made for another loop of the pitch. The bludger raced after him.

Draco laughed. A rogue bludger, no doubt enchanted by someone to help Gryffindor win. That, or maybe the heir of Slytherin rumours about Harry had gotten out of control. He watched as Harry flew up past one of the towers. The bludger smashed through the wood, sending shafts of wood flying. Draco stared in horror. But there was nothing he could do. This was buying him valuable time to look for the snitch. He made a mental note to thank whoever it was who had done this, the Weasley twins, maybe. He watched Harry twist out of the bludger's way— a narrow miss. He grinned.

Draco flew further down towards the ground, but as he went, Wood appeared at his elbow.

"Draco!" He twisted round to face his captain. "Better catch that snitch! That bludger's more than just a prank. The sooner this match is over the better."

"More than a prank?" Draco snorted, "Of course it's a prank!"

Wood shook his head. "I've seen bludgers tampered with before, but nothing like this. I'd wager that very powerful, possibly dark magic has a hand in this."

Draco stared back at Harry, his heart skipping a beat. "Dark magic?" He turned back to Wood, but he was gone.

Draco swept around the base of the pitch, looking up to see one of the Weasley twins trying to hit the bludger away, but without success. He stared frantically around him. And there, darting away from him, was the snitch. The sun shone off its golden body as it danced through the air. Draco shot after it like a bullet. The snitch darted upwards, and Draco followed. He reached towards it, almost within his grasp…

Something smacked the end of his broom and sent him spinning through the air. He clutched desperately at the sleek yet slippery body of the Nimbus 2001, but could feel himself sliding off it. A throbbing pain in his leg meant he couldn't hold on much longer. The world was wheeling round and round. He couldn't see where he was going, only a lot of white cloud followed by flashes of green grass. He slipped further from the broom, hanging on only by his hands. His legs hit something hard and immovable and he cried out in pain. They were dragged mercilessly along the rough texture. He could feel his fingers slipping. He could hold on no longer. Draco let go of the broom. He expected a long fall, but he hit the ground almost immediately and rolled. The sound of the stadium was muffled, but he could hear the panicked shouts of the crowd. He lay motionless on the floor, staring up at the white, snow heavy clouds.

It felt like an age before someone's blurry face appeared over his.

"Draco? Draco? Can you hear me?"

"Hermione?" he croaked.

"He's alright, he's talking," he heard Hermione say, as his vision and hearing began to return.

"What happened?" Draco mumbled, "What…?"

"You were hit," Hermione said, almost tearful, "by that awful bludger."

"Bloody hell, Draco, that was some hit you took!" came Ron's voice, "Shame you didn't catch the snitch before though."

"The snitch," Draco muttered, "where is it? Has someone caught it?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. "Potter."

Draco groaned and let his head fall back to the floor again. "Come on, Draco, you need to sit." Hermione lifted his shoulders, propping him up.

"Ow." Draco winced at a pain in his leg.

"Oh, uh, that's another thing," Ron said, glancing nervously at Draco as he crouched beside his leg, "your leg. The bludger hit it at full pelt. It was quite spectacular though." He grinned, but quickly straightened his face at a glare from Hermione. "It… might be broken."

Draco groaned again. "Don't worry," Ron said quickly, as other players from the Gryffindor team jogged over to where he was lying. "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can regrow bones no problem."

"Draco, you alright?" Wood asked, kneeling beside him. Draco nodded. "Ah, just like me." Wood smiled. "My first game I got hit by a bludger, too. Quite early on, actually. Don't remember much of the match."

A shriek from nearby made Draco start. "What was that?"

"Stay still!" Hermione hissed.

"Ah. Oh dear."

"Is that Lockhart's voice?" Draco asked, straining to see what was going on.

"I'll go have a look," Ron said, getting to his feet. A few moments later he came staggering back. "You'll never guess what that idiot Lockhart's gone and done!" he cried, "Only gone and made all the bones in Potter's arm disappear!"

"What?" Hermione cried, and Draco laughed.

Lockhart strode over to their group, his face slightly grey. "Well now, let me see. Malfoy, what's wrong with you?"

"Broken leg, sir," Draco said.

"Broken leg? Well… Potter had a broken arm and… well, suffice to say it's not broken anymore!" Lockhart laughed nervously. "Maybe I'll have more luck fixing broken bones with you than with him."

"No, I don't think so, Professor," Wood said quickly, stepping between him and Draco, "we'll take him to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey can fix his bones in a minute."

"Oh, this will hardly take a second," Lockhart exclaimed, "and even if the bones in his leg do disappear, at least he won't be in any pain."

"I think not," Wood said, "I like my players with all their bones in their body, even if some of them aren't exactly where they should be. Fred, George, can you help me lift Draco onto a broom?"

Lockhart took a step back as the twins carefully raised Draco to his feet. "Are you sure?" he asked, "There's nothing, _nothing_ I can do to help?"

"Nothing," repeated Wood firmly, seating Draco on the broom, "thank you, Professor."


	8. Chapter 8

"Get out of my way!" barked Madam Pomfrey, waving students aside as she rushed over to Harry Potter, "What are you all doing here anyway? Mr Malfoy, you surely can't need that many guests for a broken leg."

She made her way through the throng of Slytherins surrounding Harry's bed. He was propped up against the pillows, his boneless arm outstretched and floppy.

The Gryffindors craned to watch as Madam Pomfrey poured out a small cupful of something, and handed it to him. Harry took it and then quickly spat it back out. "Well it's not pumpkin juice!" she exclaimed, pouring another cup. She caught sight of the Gryffindors staring and gave them a sharp glare. "I shan't ask what happened to you, Mr Potter," she said, "I don't want to know. All I know is Mr Malfoy is lucky not to have suffered the same fate as you. Bone regrowth is particularly tricky and particularly nasty." Harry pulled a face as he swallowed the potion. "Now out!" she said, clapping her hands at the Slytherins.

"Can't Blaise and Pansy stay at least?" Harry asked.

"Certainly not, you need _rest_ ," Madam Pomfrey said, shooing them out.

Flint caught Wood's eye as he passed. "Can't even win Quidditch on top of the range brooms," he sneered.

"At least we don't have to play dirty to stand a chance," Wood retorted.

"You need more than good brooms to win at Quidditch," Flint continued, "you need good players. Looks like Gryffindor'll be waiting a long time. You'll have to chuck players if you want to get anywhere. Looks like little Malfoy will be the first to go, then… you." He pushed roughly past Wood.

"Don't listen to him," Wood said, looking down at Draco, "you played well. You nearly had the snitch."

"Nearly isn't good enough," Draco grumbled.

"Don't beat yourself up, mate," Ron said, "you broke your leg trying to win."

"And Potter lost the bones in his arm."

"It's not a competition," Hermione said loudly. Eight pairs of eyes glared at her. "To see who can get the most injuries, I mean," she added quickly.

Fred and George grinned at each other. "Well, depends who you're playing against."

"Miss Granger is quite right," Madam Pomfrey said firmly, "it's not a competition to see who can get the worst injury. This may be my job, but if all were well and good I shouldn't be needed."

"Where would be the fun in that?" Fred joked. His smile shrank under the stony gaze of Madam Pomfrey.

"Drink this, Mr Malfoy," she said tersely.

Draco took the cup— full of a syrupy, silvery substance— and sniffed it gingerly. It didn't smell good.

"Well go on, drink it up."

Cautiously, Draco raised the cup to his lips and drank. It was thick and cold, slithering down his throat like slime. He choked slightly.

"There we go." Madam Pomfrey took the cup. She glared at the Gryffindors.

"Already?" Ron asked, dismayed.

"Yes, already. Or I'll send you out with a flea in your ear, quite literally."

"Surely that would make us return," George said with a nervous grin.

"Out!"

Draco felt a cool, tingling sensation in his leg. "When will I be able to go?"

"Not yet. Mending bones is easy, but you'll need to just rest it for a few minutes. You'll be back in your common room before dinner though, don't you worry."

She bustled off, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the ward.

"Good match, Malfoy," Harry said, breaking the silence first, "I thought you had the snitch at first."

"No need to crow your victory, Potter," Draco snapped.

"I'm not," Harry replied, "I just thought you played well." There was a pause. "I guess fixing the bludger to come after me the whole match helped."

Draco stared at him. "I didn't fix that bludger."

"Well someone did," Harry retorted, "and I can't think of anyone who would rather see me lose and made an idiot of than you."

Draco shrugged. "You're right, Potter," he admitted, "for once, you're right. But I didn't fix the bludger. Although I'd like to know who it was, and give them my personal thanks."

Harry pulled a face at him. Draco, feeling the unpleasant, cold tingling subside, gave his leg a good shake. "Good as new." He grinned and hopped off the bed. "Have a nice night, Potter. Don't go wandering off anywhere."


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning was cool even though the winter sun did its best to warm the grounds. By the time Draco had reached the common room, stretching his stiff leg by the fire, news had already spread. Colin Creevey had been petrified.

"What?" Draco sneered, "That little snot who always took photos of Potter?" He rolled his eyes.

"A Gryffindor first year, yes," Percy Weasley replied stiffly.

"When did you even hear about this?" Fred asked.

"This morning, from Professor McGonagall. I noticed that Creevey hadn't returned to the common room last night." He fingered his prefect badge proudly. "I expect there will be an announcement of rules for all students, with exceptions for prefects, of course."

"Of course," George said sarcastically, "special exceptions for Perfect Percy the Prefect."

"I didn't mean that!" Percy flushed angrily. "I meant something like a curfew. Creevey left the common room very late last night. And, as a prefect, I shall have more duties. I won't be able to do as I please. I have responsibilities."

And true enough, Professor McGonagall appeared in the common room shortly before breakfast. The final, sleepy Gryffindors were awoken and dragged down to the common room, still in their pyjamas, with their hair sticking out at odd angles. Ron was one of them. "What's going on?" he mumbled, his early morning breath making Draco's nose twitch.

"In light of recent circumstances, there has been a change to rules here at Hogwarts," McGonagall announced, "students are to be accompanied from class to class by a teacher. Students are to return to their dormitories by eight o' clock, no exceptions. Prefects will patrol the corridors—" Percy glared at the twins— "for anyone disobeying this rule, and there will be consequences for those that choose to flout the rules." Her eyes scoured the room. "Any questions?" There was silence. She turned to leave again.

"Professor!" Draco cried. She stopped. "Is the Chamber of Secrets really open?"

She looked at his normally pale face, flushed and gleaming. She hesitated. "Well, you might as well know," she muttered, and then more loudly, "Albus Dumbledore seems to think so."

A murmur rippled throughout the common room as McGonagall left. Percy glared disapprovingly at the commotion. Draco turned to Ron and Hermione. "This is exciting," he said, "the Chamber hasn't been opened in fifty years! The monster—"

"Exciting while no one gets hurt," Hermione retorted, "this could be dangerous. It's not fun, Draco."

Draco wrinkled his nose at the foul smell emanating from the cauldron. "What did you say it was, Hermione?"

"Polyjuice potion," she replied, ripping up tufts of knotgrass and adding them to the brown sludge.

"Are you sure it's safe to make here?" Ron asked. He glanced around them. "Broad daylight, in the middle of the girls' bathroom?"

Hermione laughed. "Don't be silly, no one's going to come in here."

"Why not?" Draco demanded.

Hermione's eyes darted nervously, and she whispered something almost inaudible.

"What?" Ron asked, and the boys leant forward to hear her better.

"Moaning Myrtle," Hermione said in a low voice.

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Ron asked loudly.

"I am!"

The three of them jumped. The ghost of a girl wearing Hogwarts uniform appeared next to Ron.

"Oh. Right," he mumbled.

"And no one's going to come in here, silly, if moaning, moping, moody, miserable little Myrtle is here!" She glowered at them all. "I hope you're not doing something terribly naughty?" She giggled.

"Would you tell if we were?" Draco asked.

"Maybe." Myrtle twisted to face him. Her eyes traced his body, up and down, gleaming. "Draco Malfoy," she gasped, "I've heard all about you." She giggled again.

"Heard what?"

"The first Malfoy to be sorted into Gryffindor in— oh! Such a long time. And now on the Gryffindor team. Did you enchant that bludger to chase Harry Potter around the pitch?"

"No," Draco snapped, "how do you know so much? I've never seen you before. You don't come to the feasts."

"No…" Myrrtle turned away, "I stay here, in my toilet."

"Why?"  
"Why?" she snapped, "Because no one wants to talk to Moaning Myrtle, silly!"

"We're talking to you, Myrtle," Hermione said quickly, as the ghost's bottom lip began to stick out.

She shrugged. "I suppose so. But you're only here because no one else wants to come in, not because you really want to talk to me."

"Oh, well, we actually really—" But Myrtle cut Hermione off with a wail and dived into one of the cubicles. There was a splash and Myrtle disappeared.

"She _is_ moody!" Ron muttered as Hermione threw some more knotgrass into the cauldron.

"But it does make her toilet perfect for something like this."

Draco tilted his head sideways. "Hermione, do you look different?"

She smirked. "Yes. Just a little."

Draco and Ron exchanged confused glances. "Your hair?" Ron asked.

"No, not my hair."

"Your robes?" Ron tried again.

"No."

"Your skin?"

"No! My teeth!"

"Teeth?" Both boys lent forwards to look properly.

"When you two slipped off to get the ingredients for this potion," she explained, "mine and Neville's swelling solution exploded— you know, our diversion— and a few drops of it landed on my teeth. And they were already big enough before, as Draco has pointed out to me _many_ times—" she glared at him, "but they just get growing and growing and wouldn't stop! So Snape gave me the antidote so that they shrunk back down to perfect size!" She beamed at them both.

"You know," Ron said, "it's really not that noticeable."

She rolled her eyes. "Ron, you wouldn't notice if mine and Draco's heads swapped bodies for a week. You don't notice anything!"


	10. Chapter 10

"I can't wait to see Lockhart thrashed by Snape," Draco muttered as he elbowed his way to the front, followed by Ron and Hermione.

"I think I'd rather see Snape thrashed by Lockhart," Hermione said, "that's what Lockhart's meant to be famous for."

"I don't care what happens, seeing either of them blown apart by the other will be just as fun!" Ron remarked, a wide grin on his face.

"I'd just rather know that there's a _good_ reason we have Lockhart teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts," Hermione mumbled, "seeing as we've not been given one so far."

"I thought you rather liked him," Ron teased.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. "Only before the whole pixie debacle. I've got no faith in him now."

The jostling came to a halt as Lockhart entered, striding forwards confidently and waving at the crowds of students. "Good evening, good evening to you all." He beamed, his white teeth dazzling. "Welcome to your very first lesson in duelling! Me and my glamorous assistant Professor Snape shall be demonstrating to you how this is done!"

Snape appeared from the opposite end of the room, dressed from head to toe in black. He looked as though no one had ever called him glamorous in his life, and that he hoped no one ever would again. He walked stiffly but smoothly towards Lockhart and smiled tightly at a crowd of Slytherin students.

Lockhart ruffled his blond hair and an audible, high pitched gasp from the older students rippled throughout the room. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Professor Snape!" Lockhart called, "I shall attempt to disarm you with a very clever little spell, called the disarming spell."

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes as Draco stifled a snigger.

Lockhart raised his wand, but before he could say anything, Snape said sharply, "Expelliarmus." Lockhart's wand soared out of his hand and straight into Snape's. Lockhart froze.

"Would it not be prudent to teach students to protect themselves first?" Snape asked.

"Of course," Lockhart said, letting a broad grin erupt onto his face, "it would! In fact, let's get some students up here to practice and demonstrate to the rest of you." His eyes dropped to the band of Slytherins by Snape's feet. "P—"

"Potter!" Snape cried, "Up."

Harry scrambled onto the stage.

Lockhart frowned, scanning the crowd for someone of Harry's age to face him.

"I hope he doesn't pick me," Ron mumbled.

"Weasley?"

Ron glanced at the others.

"Not with your wand!" Hermione hissed.

Ron held up his wand. The crack had split so far that the tip of the wand was hanging limply, and it was possible to see the unicorn hair within.

"Ah. Malfoy?"

Draco's jaw clenched.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, "I don't think this is a good idea."

But Draco planted his hands firmly on the stage and hoisted himself onto the platform.

Lockhart, now reunited with his wand, drew Draco to one side. "To protect yourself, you need to be faster than Potter," he said, "now, the wand movement for casting the protection spell looks something like this." Lockhart waved his wand complexly in front of him. "I know it's a little complicated," he said, "but you'll get there." He clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Draco felt a cold shiver creep down his spine. He really did need to be faster than Harry if he didn't want to end up in the hospital wing for the night.

He walked slowly to the opposite end of the stage and raised his wand.

"Strike a pose," Lockhart called out, chuckling, "or so to speak."

Harry raised his wand.

"Potter to go first," Lockhart continued, "Draco to block. On my count, three, two—"

"Everte statum!" Draco shouted.

Harry flew backwards through the air. Draco grinned. The crowd gasped, and there was a brief smattering of laughter and applause.

"Rictusempra!" Harry shouted.

What felt like a punch to the stomach sent Draco reeling. He threw his head back and laughed, unable to stop himself. He saw Harry hesitate and knew this was his moment. "Tarantallegra," he gasped.

Harry's legs started to lead him in a dance, jerking out at all angles, spinning him round and round. Draco laughed harder, this time genuinely.

"I said to disarm," Lockhart cried, panicked, "only to disarm!"

Snape strode forwards. "Finite Incantartum."

Harry's legs stopped dancing and Draco stopped laughing. Snape roughly seized Harry by the scruff of his neck and hurled him forwards. Draco scrambled to his feet, ignoring whatever Lockhart was trying to say. Harry raised his wand. "Serpensortia!" Draco cried, and out of the end of his wand exploded a jet black, ten foot snake.

The crowd screamed and rushed back from the stage. "Draco, no!" Hermione shouted.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape said, almost enjoying the moment, "I'll deal with this."

"Allow me," Lockhart boomed, "alarte ascendare!"

There was a loud bang and the snake shot into the air. It fell back to earth with a loud smack and hissed viciously. Draco stumbled backwards. The snake twisted to the crowd and came face to face with Justin Finch-Fletchley. It reared its head, fangs exposed.

Snape raised his wand but suddenly Harry stepped forward. He opened his mouth and out came a low, breathy hiss. Snape and Lockhart exchanged panicked looks. Draco glanced down at Hermione and Ron, and the latter looked back at him, eyes round and trembling.

Harry hissed again. The snake turned to look at him and curled up on the floor.

"Vipera evanesca," Snape said, and in a second, the snake disappeared.

Justin glared at Harry. "What are you playing at?" he demanded, his voice shaky.

Harry looked at Draco. He felt a chill race down his spine. Those bright green eyes, calculating and cold. Draco shuffled backwards and even Lockhart distanced himself by a few paces.

"Duelling club dismissed," Lockhart called out, but there was a slight tremor in his voice.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Draco gasped.

"A what?"

Draco scowled. "Don't play games, Potter."

"I thought everyone could speak to snakes!"

A murmur began to spread throughout the room as students edged away from Harry and filed towards the exit. Pansy and Blaise lingered nearby, looking uneasily at each other.

Draco glared at Harry before clambering off the stage and joining Hermione and Ron on the floor. "Let's get back to the tower," Ron muttered, "looks like you're really not the heir anymore, Draco."


	11. Chapter 11

Hope you're enjoying reading! Sorry it's not been regular updates recently, i'm Trying to fix it! Thanks soo much for reading and following, if you're not already following then hit follow, and leave a review if you have time! That would be a dream :)

* * *

The whole school now seemed in mutual suspicion that Harry Potter was the heir of Slytherin.

"It makes sense," Seamus said to Draco, Ron, Neville and Dean one night in the dormitory, "he's in Slytherin, he's the only one to survive the killing curse, he can speak to snakes."

"Parseltongue is a rare gift," Ron acknowledged.

"Often only possessed by Slytherins themselves," Draco added, "Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth."

"Although, just because he survived the killing curse proves nothing," Dean said, "that doesn't change his bloodline."

"But can't you see it's obvious," Seamus continued, "he's still the heir of Slytherin. He has to be! You Know Who obviously didn't know who he was attacking that night."

"I agree," Draco said.

Ron shook his head. "Just because he talks to snakes? Why would Potter want to harm muggle borns?"

"He was brought up by muggles," Neville volunteered, "hated them, apparently. Maybe it's revenge against muggles and muggle borns."

"Or not just muggle borns," Seamus said quickly, "maybe it's anyone who stands in his way! I mean, it's not like Mrs Norris was a muggle born!" He laughed.

Ron sighed. "How did this muggle born rumour even get around?"

"Because surely the heir of Salazar Slytherin, who so famously hated muggle borns, would also want to see them kicked out of the school," Draco said.

"Potter can't be unleashing some kind of monster just to see muggle borns get kicked out of Hogwarts!" Ron exclaimed, "It must be something else."

But what that something else might be no one could quite put their finger on. "It was easier accusing you, Draco," Seamus joked, "at least you had a motive." But no one else seemed to find the joke funny.

The school continued to go into a further state of lockdown. Further curfews were imposed, and students were forbidden to walk the school alone. The teachers lived in fear of another attack. People avoided Harry in the corridors and refused to sit near him in lessons. Even during the hours of homework and silent study, students sat far from him and threw him shifty looks from across the room. Even Blaise and Pansy were seen less and less at his side.

Draco watched a group of Hufflepuffs as they stared at Harry on one such evening. Their whisperings were not unnoticed by him, and his head covered with dark, messy hair rose up and glared at them.

Draco stared down at the piece of homework in front of him. He ripped off a corner of the parchment and scribbled on it, handing it to Ron. Ron read it and glanced at Harry.

"Maybe he does feel guilty," he muttered, "I know I would."

"But how would he be able to speak Parseltongue if he's not the heir of Slytherin?" Draco whispered back, "No one else in the school can speak it, can they? And Salazar Slytherin was famous for being able to talk to snakes!"

Ron shrugged apologetically, and turned back to his work.

Frustrated by the lack of answers, Draco threw down his quill. Hermione glared at him from across the table. "It doesn't make sense," Draco hissed, "none of it!"

"It's not your job to prove him the heir," Hermione whispered.

"But then when will the attacks stop?" Draco demanded, "They'll go on forever."

"Dumbledore'll get to the bottom of it," Ron muttered.

"Dumbledore!" Draco snorted, "He hasn't found out anything. He probably knows less than we do."

"I doubt it," Ron said, "my dad always says Dumbledore never misses a trick!"

"Yeah, well, my dad said Dumbledore's the worst thing to happen to this school," Draco snorted.

Harry stood up. Draco's eyes watched him keenly as he gathered his books together and headed for the door, glaring at another group of Gryffindors on his way out.

"I'm going after him," Draco hissed suddenly, grabbing his things.

"No!" Hermione hissed, reaching across the table to snatch his parchment, but missing, "You'll get into trouble. If he really is the heir—"

"Leave me alone or come with me, but you can't stop me," Draco said, tucking his books under his arm and striding after Harry. Ron made a motion to go with Draco, but Hermione was faster this time. She grabbed his book. "Not you, as well!"

Draco watched Harry disappear round the end of the corridor, unaware that he was being followed. He quickened his pace. He rounded the corner and saw Harry moving slowly down the corridor with his ear pressed flat against the it.

Draco slowed his footsteps and then did the same. Nothing. He looked at the stone wall, wondering what he was doing. Maybe Harry could hear something. The light behind him flickered. He looked back, half expecting to see the shadow of some enormous monster, ready to bear down and strike at him. But there was nothing there. He breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to face Harry. He was gone.

Draco started. He stared about him. No one. The place was deserted. A small trail of spiders was crawling towards the window. Draco shuddered and then began to jog down the corridor. He glanced down another corridor, almost running past without stopping, but then he froze.

Harry was crouched down, with his back to him. On the floor, lay the body of Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hanging in the air just behind Harry was the charred, ghostly body of Nearly Headless Nick.

"Caught red handed," Draco said. He wanted to sound smug, but his voice trembled.

Harry jumped and wheeled round. "No," he said quickly, "no, Malfoy. It's not what you think. I found them like this. I heard… heard a voice, coming this way…" He stared desperately at Draco, and then at the bodies. "I know it sounds mad, but I swear! I didn't do anything! I would never hurt anyone."

"Stay here, Potter," Draco commanded him, "I'm getting Professor McGonagall. Now the whole school will know it's you. You just can't stop yourself can you? What is it? Hatred towards muggles and muggle borns?"

"No, Malfoy, you don't understand—" Harry protested, but Draco had gone.

He raced down the corridors, his feet and heart pounding. He skidded into the room he had left just moments before. Professor McGonagall was presiding over the silent atmosphere of study like an owl. Her sharp eyes rounded on Draco as soon as he entered.

"Harry Potter," Draco gasped, "he's there! With more bodies. He's opened the Chamber again!"

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then the room exploded with noise. Benches scraped as students leapt to their feet.

"Everyone is to remain here!" McGonagall cried out over the noise, "No one follows! Return to your dormitories immediately, and see that no one is left on their own." She glanced at Draco. "Mr Malfoy, if you'll show me exactly where Mr Potter is…"

Draco led her swiftly down the corridors, a mounting feeling of pride surging in his chest. He had caught Harry in the act. He would be the one to thank for saving Hogwarts. His father would at last be proud.

Harry was still there, staring out the window. He jumped when they appeared. Professor McGonagall gasped at the sight of Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley. She took a deep breath. "Mr Potter, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to the headmaster's office," she said. She glanced at Draco. "Mr Malfoy, I'll leave you in charge of getting Sir Nicholas and Mr Finch-Fletchley to the hospital wing."

"Me?" Draco asked, "How?"

She gave him a withering look. "Use your brains, Mr Malfoy. And your wand." And with that, she guided Harry out of the corridor and on to Dumbledore's office.

"Psst! Draco!"

Draco turned around. Ron and Hermione crept out from behind the stone pillar on the corner.

Draco pointed at the bodies. "See! He is the heir of Slytherin."

"Let's first focus on how we can get them to the hospital wing," Hermione said, "maybe if we—"

"He said he heard a voice," Draco interrupted her.

"A what?"

"A voice. Coming this way."

"What did it say?" Ron asked.

Draco shrugged. "It's clearly rubbish. He's been caught in the act!"

Hermione paused. "It just doesn't make sense. There's no reason why—"

"He's a Parselmouth," Draco said, "so was Salazar Slytherin. He was famous for it. It has to be him!"

Hermione still looked unconvinced. "There's only one way to be sure…" she said softly.

"How?" Ron asked.

"Give me some time," Hermione said, "but I have an idea…"


	12. Chapter 12

Draco slowly pulled out the curl of hair he'd taken from Blaise Zabini. It was short and dark against his pale skin.

"Why do I have to turn into a girl?" Ron moaned, staring at the dark strand of hair in his hand.

"Be quiet, Ron," Hermione said, "Potter trusts Pansy Parkinson like no one else."

"If you're lucky he'll start cuddling up to you," Draco added with a grin.

Ron scowled. "If he even tries…"

Hermione's eyes gleamed as she held up another strand of hair.

"Could be worse," Draco said to Ron, "you could be turning into Millicent Bulstrode."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Rather you than me, Hermione. She's not a girl, she's a beast!"

"You're in Slytherin robes, already?" Hermione asked Ron, her eyebrows raised.

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, well, I didn't fancy having to look down there when I went to change."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco sniggered. "She's just a girl."

"Still," Ron muttered, "I might go blind."

Hermione handed them each a cup filled with potion. "Now add the hairs," she said, carefully dropping Bulstrode's into the cup.

Ron and Draco grimaced as they added theirs. "This is disgusting," Draco said, "if my family could see me now—" He stopped abruptly.

"If my family could see me as Pansy Parkinson I'd never hear the end of it," Ron said, "Fred and George would be unbearable."

"Remember," Hermione cut them off, "the aim is to get Potter to confess to either opening the Chamber or to being the heir of Slytherin."

"And what do we do when he does?" Draco asked.

"We'll tell Dumbledore," Hermione said firmly.

"What?" Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Are you mad? What'll we tell him? That we discovered Potter's the heir after brewing a potion we found in a book in the Restricted Section… with ingredients we stole from the potions cupboard!"

"I didn't know you had such a high moral code, Draco," Hermione said coolly.

Draco's ears grew hot. "We'll get expelled!"

"Not if Potter really is the heir," Hermione said, "I've thought it all through. I've calculated the risk and this is the best way."

"No," Draco said angrily, "no it isn't! If we get expelled then that's it! No Hogwarts, no spells, no magic… Just stuck at home day after day, week after week with nothing to look forward to!"

"He has got a point, Hermione," Ron admitted.

"No." Hermione shook her head. "There's a monster in the Chamber. It's already attacked Mrs Norris, Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley… Who's next? Rumours are going round that people will be killed next. Are you really just going to stand there and do nothing?" She stared at them both, her hand on her hip, challenging them. Neither could look her in the eye. "Well I'm not." And with that, she poured the contents of her glass into her mouth and swallowed. "Oh." She shuddered and ran to one of the cubicles.

Draco gritted his teeth and drained his own glass. The potion was thick and lumpy. It bubbled viciously in his mouth and throat.

He dropped his own glass. It smashed, littering the floor with small pieces of glass that shone and cast the moonlight onto the stone walls of the bathroom.

Draco span round and almost crashed into Ron as he swallowed the last mouthful of potion. In the unison, they ran to the cubicles and locked themselves in separate ones. Draco leant over the toilet, sure he was going to be sick. His fingernails scratched the surface of the cubicle wall. His stomach churned and whirled, and then a burning sensation spread like wildfire from his stomach and down his legs and arms, burning him up from the inside.

He whimpered as his skin felt like it was beginning to melt, as if he were made of candle wax. Next door he could hear Ron gasping for breath. He stared at his hands and watched as they began to darken right before his eyes, from the ghostly pallor that he normally was, to a rich, dark tone.

An agonising pain sprang through his spine, like his body was slowly being ripped apart in an old torture chamber. His toes were crushed against the ends of his shoes, and his robes were now three inches too short.

Finally, the pain stopped. Draco slumped against the wall, barely able to stand. He took a few deep breaths and then staggered outside.

Ron was already out, gazing at himself— or rather, herself— in the mirror.

"Ron?" Draco asked. His voice was already deeper.

"Draco? Bloody hell!" Ron stared at him. Draco burst out laughing, and Ron turned to forlornly gaze at his reflection. "I'm a girl!"

"And quite an unattractive one, too," Draco said, grinning.

Ron prodded his round, red cheeks and then jabbed at his stomach. "She needs to eat less pumpkin pasties."

Draco darted back inside his cubicle to change his robes to Slytherin ones. "How do I look?"

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Awful, as always. 'Cept worse." Ron poked the Slytherin badge on Draco's chest as he passed to Hermione's cubicle. "Hermione?"

"You two go on." Her voice was shrill. "Don't worry about me. I'll catch you up."

"What?"

"Go on without me!"

The two exchanged looks. "We're not leaving you behind," Draco said, stepping forward earnestly.

"Go!" she shouted, "You're wasting time. You only have an hour before the effects wear off."

Draco grabbed Ron's arm. It was surprisingly squashy.

"Don't go anywhere," Ron said urgently through the door.

"I won't," Hermione replied, "now go!"

Draco and Ron stumbled down the corridors. Draco elbowed Ron sharply. "Ow," Ron mumbled, "my boob."

"Pansy doesn't walk like that," Draco said, "walk like a girl."

"You been studying her or something?" Ron asked, "Watching her closely?"

Draco stopped dead, grabbing Ron's arm again. "Do you want to get caught? This is our only chance to prove Potter is the heir. We have to give it all we've got."

Ron's eyes slid past Draco's face and widened in panic. Draco span round. Percy Weasley was striding towards them. "Zabini. Parkinson. What are you doing down here at this time? You should be in your common room."

"We, uh…"

"Blaise, Pansy!" Another voice hailed them from the other end of the hallway. Draco felt his skin prickle.

Harry Potter appeared by his elbow. "Sorry, Weasley," he said to Percy. Ron as Pansy started at the sound of his name, but Draco nudged him. Harry didn't notice. "We're going back there now."

Draco and Ron quickly followed Harry down the corridor and towards the Slytherin common room. Draco's heartbeat quickened. They stopped in front of a stone wall. "Pureblood," Harry said, and the stone wall slid back to reveal the Slytherin dungeon.

The hair on Draco's neck stood on end. It was everything he'd dreamed of. Exactly how he'd imagined it. The walls, rough stone with a tinge of green slime; the chairs, more like elegantly carved thrones than casual seats; the fireplace, roaring in the grate. The faint sound of water dripped rhythmically and soothingly in the background.

Harry led them to a far corner and took a seat on a small stool. The other two did the same. "So where did you two go?"

"Just for a walk," Draco replied. Blaise's already slightly husky voice came from his throat, nearly taking him by surprise.

Harry nodded. "Sure." He glanced nervously about the room.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Ron asked, Pansy's high-pitched voice grating on Draco's ears.

"Fine." He shifted uncomfortably. "Only, I don't like the way people look at me. The fact that they think I'm the heir."

"Aren't you?" Draco could hardly stop himself.

Harry stared at him incredulously. "No of course not. You know this."

"Only… you do speak Parseltongue."

"Blaise, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't know how I can speak it. Look, I didn't even know what it was until you told me. I don't know what the Chamber is, or where it is, or what the monster is that's inside it."

"Who do you think is the heir then?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'd put my money on Draco Malfoy." Draco stiffened. "He's the son of a known death eater, his whole family hate muggle borns, he's the only one to be in Gryffindor. He's taking revenge, surely."

"But you were stood alone, at the end of the corridor, right in front of Mrs Norris. Why were you there?"

Harry looked uncomfortably around. "I heard… a voice."

"A voice?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "A voice. A sort of… hissing voice as I was coming out of detention with Lockhart. I followed it and it led to me Mrs Norris."

"What was it saying?" Draco asked, moving forwards on his seat.

"Kill," Harry said, "kill. Rip… And tear."

Draco licked his lips. His mouth was dry. "But that can't have been Draco Malfoy."

Harry shrugged. "Probably not. But if you ask me his whole family is a nasty piece of work. You know, the way they treat their house elf…"

"Their house elf?"

Ron glanced nervously at Draco.

"Yeah. I told you. His house elf, Dobby, keeps coming to visit me, telling me to leave Hogwarts. First in the summer, then that night in the hospital wing, after the bludger attacked me."

"Why?"

Harry frowned. "Have you lost your memory?"

"I…" Ron stuttered, "I was practicing a memory charm on him."

Draco nodded quickly, and Harry seemed to fall for it. "He told me that he enchanted that bludger, to make me leave Hogwarts. And he stopped the barrier at platform 9¾ from letting me through. He kept all your letters from me…"

"But why?"

"He said that bad things were going to happen at Hogwarts. But he shouldn't have told me. He's afraid of his masters."

"All house elves are," Draco snapped, "that's how it should be."

Ron nodded cautiously.

Harry shrugged. "I think it's wrong," he said simply, "forcing someone to wear old, disgusting things because they're not allowed clean clothes of their own, not having their own space, having to cook and clean everything for you. It's cruel."

Draco shrugged. "That's what house elves are for."

"But the Malfoys beat their house elf," Harry insisted, "he's terrified to live there. But he knows about the Chamber— he must do! That's why he knew I shouldn't return to Hogwarts…"

Draco felt a prickling underneath his skin. He glanced down at his hands, still several shades darker than his own. He looked over at Ron and stifled a gasp. The dark, bobbed hair of Pansy Parkinson was turning slowly ginger.

"Hey, Pansy," Draco said quickly to Ron, "I've remembered that I… uh, left something behind. Shall we go get it?"

Harry looked curiously at them. "Left what?"

"Nothing," Draco replied.

Harry frowned. "I'll come with you."

"No," Draco said, "me and Pansy will be fine. Just us."

Ron's hand had risen to his hair. The edges of the bob were beginning to creep up, getting shorter and shorter. The bright orange patch in the centre of his head was growing.

"Come on!" Draco hauled Ron to his feet and the two of them rushed towards the exit, leaving Harry bewildered in the corner.

The two of them charged down the corridors, not stopping to check if Percy was still around, until they reached the girls' toilets. They burst inside, breathing heavily. Ron patted himself down, checking that he was indeed fully male before beginning to undress. Draco staggered in front of the mirror and stared at his pale face. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness we got away in time," Ron said, heaving the Slytherin robes off.

"Potter's not very observant," Draco muttered, "your hair had turned almost completely red even before we left."

Ron just grinned. "But we still got away with it." He pulled on his Gryffindor robes. "Aren't you gonna put yours on?"

"My what?"

"Your robes." Ron held out the Gryffindor robes.

Draco hesitated. He looked back in the mirror. His fingers crept up to the Slytherin crest, resting just by his heart. His fingers traced the stitching.

"Draco?"

He tore himself away, turning to stare at the red headed boy in Gryffindor robes standing opposite him. The image of the Slytherin common room, dark and damp, filled with green light, flooded his mind. He shook it off and took his robes from Ron.

Ron gave him a nod and backed away. "I'll give you some space," he said.

"I'm fine," Draco said, but couldn't help but look in the mirror one last time. The silver and green badge seemed to gleam in the light.

Something caught his eye on the sink. A small snake had been embellished on the side of the tap. He ran his fingers over it, his nails catching on every bump and line of detail. He straightened up and carefully took off the Slytherin robe. He folded it and placed it neatly on the edge of the sink. He pulled the Gryffindor robes back on.

"Hermione?" Ron was knocking on the cubicle door. "Hermione, we're back. Come out now."

"No!" she replied.

Ron frowned. "Why not?"

"Ohh!" Moaning Myrtle swept towards Ron, brushing past Draco as she went. "It's terrible!"

"Terrible?"

"Just wait and see!" she giggled.

"I'm not coming out," Hermione said through the door, her voice shaky.

"Hermione," Draco strode over to the cubicle, "stop messing around. It's past the curfew. We have to get back to the common room now." His mind instantly sprang to the Slytherin corridor. He gave a slight shudder. "We have to go." Moaning Myrtle giggled again. "What's going on?" Draco demanded of her, "Make her come out!"

Myrtle smirked. "You'll see! It's perfectly awful. She won't be the same for _weeks_."

Ron banged on the door. "Hermione! Hurry up, you're scaring us now."

"Fine," came the eventual reply, "but you have to promise not to laugh."

Draco rolled his eyes. "We promise," Ron said.

"You know how I told you the potion was to be used for human transformations only?" The bolt slid back with a click. "I plucked a cat hair from Millicent Bulstrode's robes. The potion won't reverse. I'm stuck like this."

A dark, furry face appeared at the door. Draco lit and raised his wand, and light flooded the dark cubicle. Hermione's face was that of a cat's. Long whiskers protruded from her face. Pointed ears poked through her hair. Draco began to laugh.

Hermione's eyes welled up. "Don't laugh!" she cried, "Look at me! My face!"

"Your tail," Ron said, choking on a laugh.

Hermione slammed the door shut. Ron elbowed Draco sharply, but even he struggled to keep the grin off his face. "Let's leave now and go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will be able to help."

"And what will I tell her? I can't tell her that we've been illegally brewing a potion all this time with ingredients that we stole from Snape."

"We'll think of something," Ron said, "but you need help. You really do."

"I dunno," Draco said, "the ears, they kind of suit you." Moaning Myrtle burst out laughing.


	13. Chapter 13

"Poor Hermione," Ron said, as they returned from the hospital wing two weeks later, "how long do you think it'll be before she can return to classes?"

Draco shrugged. "Whenever she stops coughing up fur balls."

Ron chuckled. He glanced at Draco, but he was deep in thought. "What is it, Draco?"

"Potter said he heard a voice that led him to find the bodies."

Ron shook his head. "He's probably just barmy."

"I saw him," Draco continued, "when I followed him, when Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick were petrified. He was walking pressed up against the wall, like this." Draco flattened himself against the nearest wall. "Like he was listening for something."

Ron opened his mouth to explain it away, but realised he had no ideas and shut it again.

Draco frowned. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" Ron's eyes widened, "The voice? Is it there?"

"No." Draco frowned. "It sounds like running water."

The two of them turned the corner and plunged straight into an enormous puddle of water stretching the entire length of the corridor.

"Looks like Moaning Myrtle's flooded the bathroom again," Ron muttered.

"Come on," Draco said, beckoning him to follow. They splashed through the water, the ends of their robes getting soaked.

They could hear Moaning Myrtle sobbing even before they entered the bathroom. Draco waded over to the sinks and tried to turn the taps off, but they were stuck.

"Who is it?" Came her angry voice.

"It's Draco. And Ron."

Moaning Myrtle's grey face appeared in the door of one of the cubicles. "Oh, hello." She drifted out of the cubicle and faced them. "Come to throw another thing at me?"

"Throw something?" Draco frowned. "Why would we do that?"

"I don't know," she said, her eyes round and mouth pouty, "but someone did. Someone threw that at me." She pointed.

On the floor, surrounded by water, was a thin, black book. Draco strode over to it and picked it up. He flicked through the pages that seemed surprisingly dry. It was empty. He tucked it into the pocket of his robes.

"But surely," Ron said, "if someone throws something at you, it'll just go straight through you. It won't hurt."

"Fine!" Myrtle screamed, "Let's throw things at Myrtle because she can't feel it! Ten points through the stomach—" She punched Ron in the stomach, her hand going straight through him. He jumped violently. "Fifty points through the head!" She punched through his face.

"What were you doing when it happened?" Draco asked.

"There I was," Myrtle sighed, suddenly becoming calm, "sitting in the u-bend, thinking of death, when it dropped through the top of my head."

"Have you seen it before?" Draco asked. She shook her head. "Did you see who put it there?" She shook her head again.

Draco sighed. "How can you have seen nothing? Well, we'll be going then."

"I don't spy on the people who enter here," she snapped.

"You spied on us," Draco retorted. Myrtle paused, and the boys saw this as their opportunity to escape.

"Let's see it," Ron said eagerly, holding out his hand.

"There's nothing in there," Draco said as he handed it over.

Ron flicked through the empty pages in disappointment. "Wait, there's a name on the back! T. M. Riddle."

Draco snatched it back off him and gazed at the golden letters imprinted on the back. "Who was he?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe Hermione would…? We could ask around in the Gryffindor common room?"

"No," Draco said quickly, putting the Diary back into his pocket, "this stays between us. No one else will know about it, agreed? Someone clearly wanted to get rid of it, and get rid of it quickly. They panicked."

"But why?" Ron asked, "There's nothing in it."

"That's why it's so suspicious," Draco said. A slow grin spread across Ron's face.

As soon as they reached the tower, Draco headed for the dormitory. It was empty. Discarded socks lay on the floor, and robes had been abandoned in favour of more comfortable clothes.

Not bothering to get changed, Draco sat down at his desk and picked up a quill and a bottle of ink. He tapped the edge of the quill against the rim of the bottle, wondering what to write. He turned to the very first page, and neatly wrote the date in the corner. He waited expectantly for something to happen, and sure enough, his writing disappeared. He sat forward eagerly, turning the page to see if it had gone through. Nothing. It had vanished without a trace.

He dipped his quill in the ink and began writing again: _I am Draco Malfoy_.

The writing faded. He waited a few moments. Nothing. He sighed, although he wasn't sure exactly what he'd been waiting to happen. He was about to close the diary when he saw words reappear on the page in front of him. Flowing, elegant handwriting that read, _Hello, Draco Malfoy. I am Tom Riddle_.


	14. Chapter 14

Draco seized his quill. _Who are you?_

The words appeared within seconds. _I was a Hogwarts student fifty years ago._

Draco's heart pounded. _Fifty years ago when the Chamber of Secrets opened?_

 _Yes. How do you know about the Chamber?_

 _It's been opened again. There have been more attacks. What do you know about the Chamber?_

 _I am the person who caught the one who first opened it._

Draco's breath caught in his chest. He considered calling for Ron, but then dismissed it. He would do this alone. _Who was it_ , he scribbled, _can you tell me about it?_

 _No._

The answer caused him to flop back in his chair. He kicked the leg of the desk. "Well that was pointless," he muttered to himself. Another sentence of writing appeared on the page. He leant forwards to read it.

 _I can show you._

Draco's heart quickened. He picked up the quill to write a reply, but the pages of the diary began to whirl. He felt himself sucked in, towards the pages, until he finally toppled inside the diary.

He stared around him. He found himself in Dumbledore's office. Except it wasn't Dumbledore who was sat in the chair, bent over the desk. There were no silver contraptions whizzing and whirring on little tables, no Fawkes the phoenix… Draco leant forwards. "Excuse me, I don't suppose you could tell me what year this is?"

The man behind the desk didn't move. "Excuse me," Draco raised his voice, "Could you tell me what year it is?" Still nothing. Draco tutted, as he had seen his father do on many previous occasions, and rolled his eyes, taking in more of the room as he did so. The door creaked open behind him, making him jump. A tall, sixth year boy entered, a prefect badge gleaming on his chest.

"Ah, Riddle," the old man said, standing up to greet the boy.

"Professor Dippet," Tom replied. Neither of them acknowledged Draco's presence. It dawned on him that he was in a memory, not the actual past, and therefore could not be seen or heard by anyone around him. He leant against the desk, eagerly listening in to the conversation.

"I received your letter," Professor Dippet said, holding up a neatly folded piece of paper.

"Ah, yes." Tom waited nervously for the Professor's response.

"You must see this is out of the question. I cannot allow you to remain here at Hogwarts over the summer."

Tom's face fell. "But please, Professor… I can't bear to return to that… that—"

"I understand you live in a muggle orphanage?"

"Yes, sir." Tom fiddled with the edge of his robes. "Please don't make me go back there. I don't belong! Let me stay here; Hogwarts is my home."

Professor Dippet shook his head. "Not anymore, Tom."

"Do you mean because of the recent attacks?"

"Yes. Especially because of them. I am still in talks with the Ministry as to whether Hogwarts will be closed— nothing is certain. I don't know if the school will survive this."

"You can't close Hogwarts!"

Professor Dippet gave an apologetic nod.

"But if the person responsible for these attacks was caught," Tom persisted, "then the school would be kept open."

"I would hope so," the elderly Professor sighed, "but nothing is certain, Tom. You must see that." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know who might be responsible?"

"No, sir." Tom's answer was a little too quick. The hairs on Draco's arms and neck prickled.

Professor Dippet gave another, almighty sigh and flopped back in his seat. "Very well. Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight, Professor." Tom rose from his seat, a steely look in his eye. He headed for the door, Draco hot on his heels. Tom glided down the stairs, but came to sudden halt at the bottom, and Draco almost crashed through him.

A silent parade passed through the halls. Two men walked in front and behind a floating stretcher. There was something, or rather someone, on the stretcher, covered by a thin blanket. Draco could see two, small shoes poking out the bottom. Tom bowed his head as it passed, but knowing he couldn't be seen, Draco stared with wide eyes. As soon as it was past them, Tom set off again, this time picking up speed. He raced down a narrow, spiral staircase, along a corridor and paused behind a slightly ajar door. There they waited, until suddenly Tom threw the door open with a bang, his wand drawn.

Draco gawped. A young Rubeus Hagrid cowered in the corner, his hands raised to protect his face.

"Come, Hagrid," Tom said breathlessly, "this has to stop."

"I don't know what yer talkin' abou'," Hagrid said quickly.

"Monsters aren't pets," Tom said, "I've just seen the body of that girl. The girl who died."

"He never killed no one!" Hagrid burst out, "Never!"

"The least we can do is bring out the body of the beast that killed her," Tom said, "it won't bring her back but her grieving parents will—"

"Aragog wouldn't hurt anyone," Hagrid protested, "he's a good boy, he is. Ain't never seen anywhere but this box 'ere tha' I keep him in. Why are yeh doin' this?"

"You don't understand, Hagrid," Tom said, "they're going to close the school. There will be no Hogwarts if the beast isn't caught, and the culprit made to pay."

"I'm not… No…"

"They'll have your wand for this," Tom said simply. He flicked his wand at the box, and the latch clicked open. The lid of the box flew off and something thick, black and hairy, with far too many legs, burst out from inside it. It bowled Tom over as it rushed for the door.

Draco screamed as it lunged towards him, passing through his body and onwards down the passageway. "Arania Exumai!" Tom shouted, scrambling across the floor, but the spell missed the creature and scorched the stone.

"Aragog!" Hagrid made for the door, but Tom sprung up in his way, wand to his neck.

Draco felt a rush of air blow from behind him, drowning out Tom's words. Everything around him started to fade. The next thing he knew, he was back on his chair in the dormitory. The chair toppled backwards and Draco fell to the floor, just as Ron entered.

"Ah, there you— What are you doing?"

Draco stared up at him from his position sprawled across the floor. "I know who opened the Chamber," he panted, "it was Hagrid all along."


	15. Chapter 15

Quidditch practices were becoming more and more frequent, until they played almost every day. Wood insisted that the team had to be on top form for this match. "Winning this match is our only chance of beating Slytherin," he said time and time again, until the twins had memorised the sentence and could imitate his voice perfectly. But the team was certainly improving, including Draco. After one particularly good practice, Wood clapped him on the back and said, "If you can do that in the real match, Hufflepuff stands no chance! We'll beat Slytherin!" The idea of beating Slytherin, especially after the recent attacks, looked ever more tempting. Draco headed back to the Gryffindor tower with a spring in his step. But no sooner had he stepped inside the common room than Neville was upon him, his face panicked. "Draco! I didn't know when you'd be back. I didn't do anything, I swear."

"What're you on about, Neville?" Draco asked impatiently.

"The dorm," Neville pointed up the stairs, "someone's been in it. They've been through your stuff."

A wave of panic flooded through Draco. His heart thudded. He thrust the broom into Neville's hands and raced up the stairs two at a time, Ron hot on his heels.

Their dormitory was a mess. The drawers in Draco's cabinet had been flung open and their contents scattered all over the floor. His bed was essentially unmade, his books strewn across the room, their pages ripped and crushed. "Who touched my stuff?" Draco asked.

Ron shook his head, his face a picture of horror. "I dunno, mate."

"Who touched it?" Draco span round just as Neville reached the top of the stairs.

Neville shook his head. "I don't know, Draco, I swear I don't know!"

"Where are Seamus and Dean?"

"They went out ages ago," Neville said, "I was still in here. Then I went downstairs—"

Draco rushed across the room and seized Neville's jumper. His face was inches from Neville's as he rammed him into the stone wall. Neville let out a small cry. "If you're lying to me—" Draco hissed.

"He's not, Draco." Ron pulled him off. "Neville came down and worked with me and Hermione. I came up once and it was fine. No one else came in all afternoon."

"Someone did!" Draco spat.

"Not us," Ron said, "not Neville, not me, or Seamus or Dean."

"Then who was it?" Draco shouted.

"There's no need to be angry, Draco," Neville said tentatively, "we can fix this easily."

"No need to be angry?" Draco shouted, "Someone's trashed my stuff." He dropped to his knees and began to sort through it.

"It has to be a Gryffindor," Ron said, "no one else can know our password."

"This is beyond a joke," Draco spat, "I'm not the heir!"

"They look like they were searching for something," Neville said.

"Is anything missing?" Ron asked.

Draco quickly rifled through some sheets of parchment, now ruined by spilt ink. An idea formed in his mind. He rummaged through his books, turning them over and hunting under the bed.

He sat back on his haunches and breathed deeply, unsure if it was a good or a bad thing. "Tom Riddle's diary's gone."

Wood glared ferociously at his team mates until they squirmed in their seats. "Right. No enchanted bludgers. No broken bones. No cheating Slytherins. Nothing's going to stop this match now. Nothing's going to go wrong. We can win this match."

Fred and George burst into a round of applause. "Bravo," Fred called. "A bracing talk," added George.

Wood glowered at them. "I mean it. Draco, we're counting on you to get this snitch, if only to prove Marcus Flint wrong. Chasers, you throw the quaffle through those hoops as many times as humanly possible. I want the highest score we can. Fred and George, forget about the Hufflepuff players, hit all the bludgers directly at the Slytherin stands. And I will defend those goalposts with my life."

Fred and George grinned at each other. "Perfect!" They said in unison.

"We have the faster brooms, the better players," Wood said loudly, "What can stop us now?" He seized his broom and turned to head out for the pitch.

"Oh, Wood, there you are," Professor McGonagall said, entering the Gryffindor tent, "I have something urgent that I need to tell you all." She gestured for them all to sit. "I regret to inform you that this match is cancelled."

Wood looked as though he had just been punched in the stomach. "You can't cancel Quidditch!" He exploded, almost dropping his broom.

Professor McGonagall gave him a withering look. "It is a most distressing and urgent matter. You are to return immediately to the Gryffindor common room, you and your team." Wood kicked a clump of grass so hard that it flew straight out of the ground. The Weasley twins were noticeably disheartened too, their one chance at being allowed to target Slytherin spectators having been squashed like an annoying bug.

"Mr Malfoy will accompany me to the hospital wing."

Silence fell over the tent. "The hospital wing?" Draco asked.

"Yes." McGonagall extended her arm to shepherd him outside. She avoided all eye contact.

"Hospital wing," Wood said, suddenly serious, "do you mean… there's been another attack?"

"Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said again, not looking at Wood, her voice tight and slightly hoarse. The Gryffindor team exchanged panicked glances. Silently, Draco left the tent, Professor McGonagall close behind.

They tracked down Ron first. McGonagall refused to break her silence all the way to the castle until at last they arrived. "This might shock you," she said softly to them, pulling back a curtain to reveal Hermione.

Draco froze. Ron gasped and stepped forward. He touched her hand that was outstretched in front of her. "She's ice cold," he said.

"She has been petrified," McGonagall said, her voice trembling slightly.

"We can see that," Draco said, abandoning his broomstick and moving to her side. On the table next to her was a small handheld mirror. "What's this?"

"It was found in her hand," McGonagall said, "we were hoping you might know what it was for." They both shook their heads. "A Ravenclaw student was found with her, also petrified." Professor McGonagall struggled to say it, but eventually, "Also muggle born." Neither of them said anything, and so at length, she gathered herself. "If you would return to your dormitory immediately. And not leave until dinner, at which point you will walk with your house mates to the Great Hall."

"But it's half past three," Draco said, "is there a new curfew?"

"There will be an announcement when you return." She gave them a forceful look, and they left Hermione where she was and headed back to the common room with McGonagall guarding them.

The common room was packed. Students were comforting the Quidditch players over the loss of a match and potential victory. Other students were whispering their theories about what might have happened. As Draco and Ron entered, the room fell silent.

Professor McGonagall strode in behind them and unwound a scroll. She read, "No student is allowed to leave the common room after their return from dinner for any reason. Students will not walk the corridors alone. Teachers will continue to walk students from one lesson to another. All classes, except those for OWL and NEWT examinations, as well as the classes of transfiguration, potions, defence against the dark arts and charms, are cancelled. All Quidditch matches and practices are banned, as are any activities that take place outside of the common room." She cast her eyes, normally so sharp and discerning, now filled with sorrow and weariness, around the common room. "If you have any information regarding these attacks, I urge you to come forward. I cannot stress enough the severity of the situation. It is a miracle that no one has yet been killed. Yet." She rolled the parchment on which was the list of rules. "Even if it means turning in a friend, or reporting something suspicious that you at first assumed to be nothing. If not, it is likely the school will be closed." There was a general gasp around the room. McGonagall bowed her head and left.

"Who was it?" Lee Jordan called out to Draco and Ron. A hush came over the room. "In the hospital wing. Who was it?"

"A Ravenclaw student," Ron muttered, "and Hermione."


	16. Chapter 16

"Ron!" Draco dragged Ron to one side of the common room, "We need to do something. We need to find out who's been doing these attacks." Ron nodded quietly, his face grey. "We need to talk to Hagrid."

The three of them had agreed that asking Hagrid outright would have been too difficult. They had reason to suspect his pink umbrella housed the remains of his wand, and whenever the subject of why he wasn't allowed to use magic was brought up, he became mysteriously deaf and confused. But now, what with Hermione lying still in the hospital wing, Draco felt as though what they had learnt from Tom Riddle's diary needed to be addressed.

"I can't believe Hagrid would attack Hermione," Ron said.

"Me neither," Draco said, "or at least, not knowingly."

Ron shook his head. "I think Tom Riddle lied to you. I don't think Hagrid would even be capable of attacking muggle borns— or anything come to that. He's soft at heart, really. Don't you remember Fluffy?" He snorted.

"But we still need to talk to him," Draco said.  
"How?" Ron asked, "We can't just walk out of Hogwarts."  
"That's exactly what we can do!" Draco said, his eyes lighting up and a grin breaking onto his face, "Do you remember taking the ingredients for the polyjuice potion from Snape's store cupboard? Well I took some liquid luck, as well, thinking we might need it if a monster was on the loose in the school. I knew it would come in handy!"

They raced upstairs to the dormitory and quickly sorted through Draco's sock drawer. From within an old pair, he drew a tiny vial of golden liquid and held it up to the light, where it gleamed. Ron's mouth fell open."How much do we take?"

"A very little bit," Draco said, "it can be toxic if too much is drunk."

Ron nodded. "Alright then, you go first."

Draco released the cork with a small _pop_ and raised the vial to his lips. He let a few drops fall onto his tongue and quickly swallowed them.

"How long do we have?" Ron asked, taking it from him and proceeding to drink.

"An hour, I think," Draco said, hiding the remainder of the potion back in the sock, "But we should be able to get to Hagrid's, ask him some questions and get back inside before we're missed."  
"And the monster?"

Draco shrugged. "Luck's on our side."

They slipped down the stairs to the common room. Everyone else was playing games— exploding snap in one corner, Wizards' chess in another; the Weasley twins were experimenting with a baby salamander and a collection of fireworks. No one seemed to notice as the two boys left the common room and snuck out into the corridors. They kept moving quickly, acutely aware that they had only an hour to get out and then back into the castle. No one was about, except Lockhart, who was muttering furiously to himself as he kept watch by the castle door. Draco noticed a small rock and threw it along the corridor.

Lockhart froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. A small whimper escaped his mouth. He looked around nervously. "H-hello? Is there someone there?"

"Do it again," Ron whispered, "he might think the monster's come for him and make a run for it."

Draco picked up another small stone. As he did so, he noticed another trail of spiders, like the one he'd seen on the night of Nearly Headless Nick and Justin's petrification. He tossed the stone down the corridor.

Lockhart drew his wand. "I'm coming," he said, his voice slightly higher than normal, "I'm coming. Be afraid, be very afraid. I have beaten many beasts, you know. Why I dealt with a case not dissimilar from this, in Tanzania…" Lockhart disappeared around the corner, without so much as a look in their direction. Immediately, the two boys scuttled through the door and out into the grounds.

They ran through the dark towards the little lights in Hagrid's hut, out of breath, their hearts soaring, nervous grins on their faces.

Ron knocked urgently on Hagrid's door. There was a scuffle from inside, the door flew open and Hagrid appeared, pointing a crossbow in their faces. They both jumped, and Ron nearly fell down the steps.

"Oh, it's you two," Hagrid grunted. He squinted into the black night. "What're yeh doin' outside of the school at this time?"

"It's about Hermione," Draco said.

Hagrid's face changed. "I've heard." He gestured for them to enter. "But keep this quick."

Draco and Ron stumbled inside the hut. "What's the crossbow for?" Ron asked, eyeing Hagrid as he placed it by the door.

"Nothin'," Hagrid mumbled.

"Are you expecting someone?" Draco asked.

"No!" Hagrid's eyes widened suddenly. "Yeh shouldn't be here," he said, and then looking at Ron, "neither of yeh! How did yeh even get here? There's a curfew on!"

"Liquid luck," Draco smirked, "from Snape's store cupboard."

Hagrid pointed a thick finger at him. "Tha's stealin', tha' is!"

"But it's about the Chamber," Ron protested.

"I don't care, yeh gotta leave." Hagrid stood up, ready to shoo them out. "Go on!"

"You opened it," Draco said.

Hagrid froze. "Who told yeh tha'?"

Draco's face remained unchanged. "You opened the Chamber. And now you're doing it again!"

"No!" Hagrid cried, "I never did! I was blamed fer it, and it's true tha' after I was expelled from Hogwarts and had me wand snapped in two the attacks on muggle borns did stop, but I never opened it." He glared at the pale boy in front of him. "Shame on you, Draco, fer thinkin' tha' I did."

"We didn't really." Ron piped up. He glanced sideways at Draco. "We found… something. And it told us that you'd done it! But we knew you never really had."

Hagrid looked long and hard into Draco's eyes. Draco held the stare, but could feel his soul shrinking back. At last, Hagrid looked away. "Good," he grunted. He glanced out the window.

"But Hermione's been petrified now," Ron continued.

"I know. I heard." He ran his hand over his beard.

"We thought," Draco said, "that even if you hadn't opened the Chamber, you might know something about who did."

Hagrid shook his head. "I know nothin'. An' I don't want teh know neither."

"Please, Hagrid," Draco said. Hagrid hesitated.

There was a loud bang on the door. All three of them jumped. "I told yer yeh shouldn't'a come!" Hagrid whispered furiously, "Hide!"

Draco jumped off the large armchair and crouched to look underneath. "Ron," he hissed, "if we squeeze…"

The two of them lay flat on their backs and pulled themselves under.

"Quickly!" Hagrid whispered. There was another knock at the door. "Jus' a second!" he called, glaring at the two boys. He marched over to them, lifted the armchair and placed it over them, quickly pulling the fabric at the bottom down and draping a blanket over the edge. He hastened back to the door, grabbed the crossbow and swung it open. "Oh. Professor Dumbledore. Come in."

The weight of the chair crushed Draco's chest. He took rapid, shallow breaths. He could feel something pushing into his side. He hoped it was Ron. He tried to turn his face to try and see him, but couldn't move. His nose was pressed uncomfortably against the bottom of the sofa. He could feel something tickling his nose. What would happen if he sneezed?

Footsteps crossed the room, creaking on Hagrid's wooden floor.

"Minister," Hagrid said. Draco's heart quickened. The Minister for Magic was here as well.

"Hagrid, Hagrid," the Minister said. In his mind, Draco could almost see the bumbling Cornelius Fudge, the man his father worked for, stumbling into the room, bowler hat perched atop his head. "This is a wretched mess."

"We're very sorry to intrude upon you uninvited, at this time of night," Dumbledore said.

"Not at all, Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid said, "yer always welcome teh visit."

"Not under such circumstances, I hope," Fudge added. There was a moment of silence. "Look, Hagrid, let's not beat about the bush. The fact is that the Chamber has been opened again."

"I didn't do it, Minister," Hagrid said instantly, "not the firs' time nor this. I didn't."

"Now, now, Hagrid," Fudge said carefully, "no one's saying you did."

"They did last time!"

"Well… perhaps. But there's no evidence to say that you did."

"But lack of evidence to the contrary means yeh'll ask me teh leave Hogwarts anyway. I know how this works."

"Look, Hagrid," Fudge's voice became slightly desperate, "you have to understand that I can't just sit around and do nothing! I must take action."

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

"I'm afraid Cornelius is perfectly right," came Dumbledore's voice from near the sofa, "we cannot do nothing, Hagrid. Although, I will vouch for Hagrid's innocence in this, Cornelius. I do not believe he is to blame."

"Albus, you must understand as well as I do that we simply have to act." Fudge sighed impatiently. "Waiting until a muggle born is killed is not an option, I'm sorry."

"Hagrid, do you mind if I sit down?" There was a slight pause. "My knees, you see. I'm not as young as I once was."

"O' course, Professor."

"Thank you." The sofa creaked as Dumbledore sat. The weight increased, and Draco bit his lip in an attempt not to cry out. He tilted his head back as far as he could and saw the backs of two, red shoes.

Draco felt something jab him in the back. "Draco," Ron hissed, "I think I'm gonna sneeze."

Draco elbowed him sharply. What did he think he was doing, whispering like that? He would get them caught.

Another knock at the door startled him. "Excuse me," Hagrid mumbled. The floor trembled slightly as he stomped towards the door and opened it. "What do you want?"

There was no reply. Draco strained his ears to hear who it might be. A delicate set of footsteps crossed the floor. "Is that how you treat all of your guests?" Draco's heart pounded. Lucius Malfoy's footsteps came to a stop.

"Yer no guest o' mine, Mr Malfoy."

"Ah, Dumbledore," Lucius said, his voice cold and commanding, "I was told you'd be here."

"Lucius."

"I don't want him in my house," Hagrid said loudly.

"Oh really," Lucius Malfoy said drily, "this isn't a house. More like a pig sty."

Ron sneezed. It wasn't loud, but it was enough. Deadly silence fell over the room. "What was that?" Fudge asked nervously. Draco felt his stomach plummet. So much for liquid luck.

"I…" Hagrid began.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "Baked beans. How very embarrassing. What was it you wanted, Lucius?" Draco could hardly believe it. His heart hammered against his chest.

"I have here a petition." Lucius' footsteps approached the armchair. "Signed by all the governors. We think that, given the current crisis and your lack of intervention, you are no longer a suitable leader for our school. Perhaps it is time we had a new leader, a younger one, perhaps."

" _Our_ school, Lucius?"

"Indeed. I and the governors."

"And who might you suggest?"

"Replace Albus Dumbledore?" Hagrid exploded, "Never! Hogwarts never had a better headmaster in all its time."

"Quite," said Lucius drily, "but I can't help but feel that this is beyond him."

"If Albus Dumbledore can't handle it, then no one can!" Hagrid cried.

"Hagrid, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, in an attempt to soothe him, "if the school governors have asked for me to step down, then I shall."

"No!"

"Yes." Dumbledore rose up. Draco watched the two red shoes slowly disappear, and two, shiny black shoes came into sight, accompanied by a slim, black cane.

"Very good." Lucius' voice was crisp.

"Hagrid," came Fudge's voice, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, as well. To Azkaban."

"Azkaban!" Hagrid gasped, "No. Not Azkaban. Anywhere but Azkaban. Please. I'm innocent; I know nothin' about the Chamber of Secrets."

"It's protocol, I'm afraid," Fudge sighed.

There were a few moments of silence, in which Draco imagined there was an exchange of looks between all four men. Then Hagrid gave a loud sniff. "If anyone wanted teh know the truth," he said loudly, "all he'd need teh do would be teh follow the spiders. Yep. Follow the spiders. Oh, an' also, someone'll have teh feed Fang while I'm gone."

Four sets of footsteps moved towards the door. There was a soft creak. And then silence. They both waited a few moments and then slithered out from under the chair. They lay gasping for air on the floor for a few moments. Draco punched Ron in the shoulder. "Why did you have to go sneezing like that? Thank goodness Dumbledore covered for us!"

Ron's ears turned pink. "I couldn't help it. I don't think Hagrid even knows what a duster is. And what about your dad? Why would he want to kick Dumbledore out of the school?"

"How should I know?" Draco snapped. He got to his feet and checked the window. "They're gone." He looked back around the room. Fang gazed up at him and whined. "What did Hagrid say? Follow the spiders?"

Ron's eyes widened in horror. "We're not really going to follow them, are we?"

"Of course, we are," Draco replied, "we want to find out the truth, don't we? If it's not Potter, then who is it? And besides, we've still got time." He bent down and stared at a small trail of spiders crawling out of a crack in the wall of the hut. "Come on."


	17. Chapter 17

Ron dawdled behind Draco, who charged ahead, wand in hand, lighting the way. "Draco. We can't go now. It's too late. Let's go back to the castle."

"Afraid?" Draco asked.

"Well, yeah, just a bit," Ron replied. He moaned. "Follow the spiders. Follow the spiders! Why not the butterflies?"

Even Fang whined as he slunk unwillingly alongside Draco. "Shut up, you wuss," Draco told him, "and you, too!" He called to Ron.

They reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Weren't you listening?" Ron asked, his voice rising, "At the start of term feast, Dumbledore said not to go into the forest. It's forbidden."

Draco ignored him and plunged into the darkness of the trees. "Are you coming or not?"

Ron moaned but chased after him. "I hate spiders."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ron. You too, Fang."

The small trail of spiders in front of them began to thicken. More spiders seemed to appear from nowhere to join their ranks, and soon the forest floor was crawling under their feet. Ron whimpered as spiders scuttled over his shoes. "M-maybe we should wait until morning…" Ron ventured.

Draco scowled. "No! We have to keep going."

"I think the liquid luck's wearing off," Ron whispered.

"Rubbish!" Draco snorted, but a chill crept up his spine. He, too, had had a similar thought.

As they got deeper into the forest, the size of the spiders grew as fast as the number of them. Draco glanced nervously around him. Twigs were snapping under the sheer weight of the spiders. He could see the thick bristly hairs of their legs as they darted past. At last, they ducked under a large log and found themselves in a clearing. Standing in the centre was one enormous spider. Its eight legs were as thick as small trees and its body heaved. Ron gasped and stumbled backwards, tugging on Draco's robes. Furious, Draco shook him off, but couldn't help himself eyeing up Fang to see if he could take their weight should they need to escape quickly. Draco raised his wand, throwing light onto the face of the spider. It shrank back, blinking its eight eyes rapidly. "Who are you humans that dare to wander into our midst?" The spider called out in a deep, hoarse voice.

"We're friends of Hagrid's," Draco said, taking care to lower his wand and hide it in the folds of his robes.

At the sudden loss of light, the spider edged forwards. Draco suddenly felt blind. His wand hand twitched on impulse at his sudden loss of sight. He widened his eyes to make sure they weren't shut without his realising, and then stared up at the sky. He could see the moon shining high, high above them. The same chill ran down his spine.

Fang barked loudly. Draco's head snapped back to face the creature. The spider was coming still closer. "Friends of Hagrid's," it repeated slowly.

"Yes," Draco said, trying to keep his voice firm, "and who are you?"

"I am Aragog. Also a friend of Hagrid's."

Draco nodded. He wiped his sweaty palm on the edge of his robes. "Hagrid sent us to speak to you."

"About?"

"Well…" Draco glanced at Ron, cowering behind him, "well, about… About the Chamber of Secrets."

Aragog froze. "The Chamber of Secrets…" he repeated.

"Yes." A thought flashed through Draco's mind. "Someone told me Hagrid was responsible. Were you the monster Hagrid freed from the Chamber?"

The spider squirmed, its pincers clicking furiously. "Hagrid never had anything to do with the Chamber, or that girl's death! He took care of me. The monster in the school is more powerful and deadly than we spiders are."

"What monster is it?" Draco demanded.

"We do not speak of it," Aragog said.

"Do you know where the Chamber is?" Draco asked quickly.

"No," Aragog replied, "all I ever saw of the castle was the box where I Hagrid kept me. He was wrongfully expelled!"

Ron tugged on his sleeve. "Draco…"

"Get off, Ron!"

Fang gave a sudden bark and bolted. "Fang. Fang!" Draco called, but he'd already gone. "Damn dog," Draco muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat to address the spider. "And did you say a girl died?"

"Yes. A young muggle born girl was found in a bathroom. The monster had killed her."

"How?"

Aragog's pincers clicked. "You are very curious."

"The Chamber's been opened again," Draco said, "no one's been killed— yet, but some have been petrified."

"You should be wary of the beast," Aragog said. He paused. "That is, if you ever make it back to the castle."

Draco's hairs stood on end. "What?"

"Draco!" Ron whimpered, tugging on his sleeve.

"What?" Draco growled, wrenching his robes from Ron's hand yet again. Ron pointed up towards the sky.

Draco's mouth fell open. The moon was now obscured by the large, hairy bodies of hundreds of descending spiders. He stared at Aragog. "You tricked us," he spat, "you tricked us by distracting us with crucial information in order to keep us and make us your… your…"

"Dinner!" Ron whined. Fang barked loudly. Aragog chuckled.

"How can I disappoint my sons and daughters when fresh, human meat wanders into our forest?"

"But we are friends of Hagrid's," Draco snarled, "not just anyone. My father— both of our fathers— work for the Ministry!"

"Do you think I care about your world?" Aragog asked, advancing towards them. Draco pulled out his wand. "You great wizards and witches have never cared for us!"

"I'll tell my father!" Draco said, "You and your family will be destroyed."

Aragog laughed. "You'll never see your father again!"

"Draco!" Ron cried.

Draco thrust his wand into the air, every fibre of his body throbbing with fear and adrenaline. "Accio broom!"

Spiders began to land all around them. "Lumos!" The bright light shone into Aragog's eyes and he shrunk backwards. But then, he straightened himself up. The other spiders, taking their lead from him, began to advance.

Draco planted his back firmly against Ron's and held out his wand. "Arania Exumai!" The nearest spider to them flew backwards into the air with a blast of blue-white light.

"What do I do?" Ron gasped, holding out his broken wand.

"Nothing, not with that wand."

"So what do I do?" Ron asked again, his voice becoming shrill.

"Arania Exumai!" Draco shouted again, and another spider went flying. "Nothing!" Draco stared up at the sky again. But the sky was barely visible. The sheer number of spiders was almost forming a crawling ceiling above their heads. His heart quickened in his chest, and his breath caught in his throat. "Arania Exumai," he choked out and blasted a couple more spiders away.

"They're coming!" Ron wailed. They span round, still back to back, and Draco cast the spell at a few more spiders. "What're we gonna do now?"

"Don't panic," Draco said desperately.

"Don't panic," Ron said sarcastically, "Oh, great plan, Draco. Like that'll save us."

"I've got a plan coming," Draco turned his eyes to sky.

A distant whizzing noise came to his ears, above the noise of the spiders. Then, with a series of loud thuds, Draco's Nimbus 2001 burst into view, scattering the descending spiders into the trees.

"Kill them!" Aragog commanded, his voice booming throughout the clearing.

"Ron, get on the broom!" Draco shouted, grabbing hold of it and pulling himself on.

"But I can't fly," Ron gasped, leaping on behind Draco and clutching at his robes.

"Would you rather stay and die?" Draco snapped. He kicked off from the ground, his heels grinding into the moss covered mud. The broom shot into the sky like a small rocket. Draco pointed his wand ahead of them. "Arania Exumai!" He leant forwards and sped through the gap he had created, dodging and ducking the spiders that came racing towards them.

Finally, the broom shot out of the forest and high into the air. "How high are we?" Ron squeaked, peering over Draco's shoulder.

Draco stared downwards. A thin layer of cloud covered the tops of the trees. The ground was too far away to see.

"Which direction is the castle?" Ron asked, staring around them in every direction.

"I think this way," Draco said, speeding off as fast as he could, aware the spiders would still be climbing the trees to chase them. His head was pounding. He wiped his palms on his robes and tried to take a couple of deep breaths.

They flew in silence for a while. "Bloody hell, we could have died," Ron said eventually, "like, really died." He paused. "What the hell is Hagrid playing at? Keeping a monster like that in the grounds!"

Draco dipped the front of the broom and they began to descend out of the cloud. They had, by now, cleared the forest, and were indeed heading for the castle. Draco's sharp eyes picked out the Gryffindor tower, and then their dormitory window. He let Ron unlatch it, slide off the broom and into the dorm room before neatly stepping off and into the room.

Seamus, Dean and Neville were sleeping soundly in their beds. "I swear," Ron muttered, his squeaky voice at last returned to normal, "when Hagrid gets out of Azkaban, I'm gonna kill him."


	18. Chapter 18

Draco knocked sharply on Lockhart's door. "Professor. Professor!"

The door opened suddenly. "Yes? What is it? What do you want?" He grimaced. "Oh. It's you two."

Draco pushed his way inside. "You know where the Chamber of Secrets is."

Lockhart paused. The two boys stared around his office. Robes of all colours— lilac, jade, gold— were strewn across the room. Books had been clumsily tossed into suitcases. "Are you… packing?" Ron asked in disgust.

"What? I… I…" Lockhart fumbled for words. And then with a quick flick of his wand he locked the two enormous cases either side of him.

"My sister's been taken!" Ron cried, his face flushing red, "And you're doing a bunk!"

"So what if you lied about knowing where the Chamber is," Draco said, "you still did all those things in your books."

Lockhart rolled his eyes. "My dear boys, I have to earn money somehow! I have to be a star! And my books would never have sold if people didn't think I'd done those things!" The two boys stared at him, mouths slack. "And besides," Lockhart mumbled, "who wants to read about some old hag's accomplishments, when you could have me, dashing, witty, born to be a star. You know I won Witch Weekly's Most Dashing Smile Award five—"

Draco and Ron swung their wands up and pointed them at Lockhart. He backed away nervously. "Now now, boys. Let's not do anything rash."

"Drop the wand," Draco ordered him. Lockhart did as he was told. "You want to be famous? You want to be loved?" Draco sneered, "you want to make an impact? Well today's your lucky day, Professor." He gestured with his wand for Lockhart to step forwards and out of his office. "Come with us."

They led him at wand point all the way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Boys," he chuckled as they approached, "I don't think we're allowed in there. I'll have to give you deten—"

Draco jabbed him in the back with his wand. "In!"

"Back again?" Myrtle smiled as they entered, "And with a guest." Lockhart glared at them.

"The Chamber's been opened so many times recently," Draco said, "and you must have been here each time." She nodded. "Do you remember how the Chamber was opened?"

Myrtle floated over to the sinks. "Someone would say something in a terrible language."

"Do you remember what it was?" Draco asked desperately, "Can you just try and say it?"

She shuddered and out of her mouth came a silky yet harsh language. At the words, the sinks began to rattle. Then they moved out and down, revealing a gaping hole in the floor.

Draco's heart pounded. He grinned. "Let's go."

"You first," Ron said, pushing Lockhart towards the hole.

"Now now," Lockhart said cautiously, "I rather think this has gone far enough. It's all very impressive, of course. You've done very well. But… but now it's time to take the matter to a higher authority." He made a dash for the door, but Ron and Draco grabbed him and thrust him back towards the hole. They raised their wands.

"Off you go," Ron said.

Lockhart peered down the hole. "It seems like a rather long way—"

Draco kicked him in the back of the knees and Lockhart collapsed like puppet whose strings had been cut. He tumbled downwards into the hole, shouting all the way down, until finally there was a thud, and he called up, "It is quite disgusting down here, you know."

Draco nodded at Ron. "Us next."

"Thanks, Myrtle," Ron said.

She smiled. "If either of you die down there you're welcome to come up and share my toilet."

They nodded uncertainly. Ron jumped first, followed by Draco.

The pipe down was long and winding. Draco bounced off the sides, grazing his knees and elbows through his robes. At last, the tunnel ended and he shot out into a small chamber. Ron and Lockhart were already on their feet. Draco staggered upright, holding his wand out at Lockhart. He glanced down at what they were standing on. "What's this?"

"Bones," Ron muttered. Lockhart let out a small whimper.

"That way," Draco pointed at the only conceivable exit and they scrambled over the dead animals and into a much wider tunnel.

"Hey, Draco, come look at this," Ron called. Draco crossed over to him and stared at the enormous snake skin that stretched out in front of him. "It's got to be at least twenty feet!" Draco stepped over the snake skin and followed it right the way along until he reached the head. He touched it gingerly.

"Haha! Got you!" Draco wheeled around. Lockhart stood proudly, almost gloating, Ron's wand clutched in his hand, the tip of it against Ron's throat. "Now boys," he said, grinning, gesturing for Draco to drop his wand, "time to come quietly." Draco shook his head. "Yes." Lockhart grinned. "Drop your wand, Malfoy. Or Weasley gets it." Draco's wand fell to the floor of the cavern with a dismal clatter.

Lockhart grinned. "I've always prided myself on my memory charms. They've led me to my fame and fortune. And now, they will lead to your… heart wrenching story." He giggled to himself. "I can see it already. My next book. The tragic story of you, Malfoy, obsessed with proving yourself to your disappointed parents, you went to recover the body of Ginny Weasley with your friend and her brother, when you were both driven to madness at the sight of her mangled body." He pushed Ron away from him and pointed Ron's wand. "Obliviate!"

There was a bright flash of green light. Draco instinctively ducked, raising his hand to protect him. Lockhart was swept off his feet and shot into the air, his back hitting the ceiling of the cavern. A deep rumble started above their heads, and suddenly the ceiling collapsed. Ron dived for cover. Draco shrieked and tried to run, but instead tripped over the enormous snake skin and fell on his face. His nose and lip throbbed, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

At last, it stopped. Draco twisted to stare over his shoulder at Ron, but the boulders from the ceiling had created an impassable wall between them. Draco snatched up his wand and rushed over to the rubble. "Ron!"

"Draco? Are you alright?"

"I'm bleeding." He touched his lip. It stung.

"Badly?" Ron asked, "Can you still go on?" Draco stared into the deep cavern. His skin prickled. "Are you still able to go and find Ginny?" Ron called, desperation in his voice. Draco's mind turned to the Gryffindor common room. Warm, cosy, dry, safe. His eyes fell on the huge skull outlined by the snake skin just in front of him. He shuddered. "Please!" Ron begged him.

"Yeah," Draco heard himself say, "I'll go after her." He pushed his chest out. "I'll be the one to bring her back safely. How's Lockhart?"

"His memory's gone," Ron replied, "he can't remember who he is, or where he is, or what he's doing!"

Draco laughed. "Can you try and shift some of this rock? I'll go on ahead, then when you've cleared the path through you can follow me."

"Alright," Ron agreed, "stay safe, Draco."

"You too, Ron." Draco threw off his Hogwarts robe and rolled his shirt sleeves up, pausing only to wipe his dirty hands on his knitted vest. He gripped his wand tightly and advanced further into the dark cavern.

After walking for what felt like ages, he reached a porthole in the wall, still left ajar from the last person to visit. He pushed his back against it and heaved it open just enough to squeeze through. The other side of the porthole took his breath away.

It was a vast chamber, with the stone heads of snakes lining the side of a smooth walkway surrounded by water. Off the sides of this water were little tunnels, and at the end of the walkway, facing Draco with perfect symmetry, was the head of Salazar Slytherin, immortalised in one gigantic carving, locks of hair flowing from his head like snakes. And underneath, in a pool of water, lay Ginny.

Draco's footsteps began to pick up. He started running. His feet pounded down the smooth, slippery walkway. He dropped down on his knees by Ginny's body. She was pale and freezing to touch, her skin like ice. "Ginny," Draco hissed, "wake up. Wake up. We have to go. Ginny!" She didn't move. He bent down, scooped up one arm and threw it round his neck.

"Draco Malfoy."

He froze. His blood chilled inside him. He glanced over into the shadows. A slim silhouette of a young man emerged, with a crop of messy, dark hair. Tom Riddle. "Tom." He relaxed. "We have to go! Potter could be here any minute."

"Potter?"

"Harry Potter, the heir of Slytherin," Draco hissed, heaving Ginny's body upright, "We need to get out before he comes!"

Tom laughed. His voice was clear and sharp, unlike the memory he'd shown Draco. His laugh echoed around the cold Chamber. "Harry Potter? The heir of Slytherin?" He tutted. "Oh, Draco. You've made a mistake. And what a mistake it is!" Draco stood still, watching Tom's every move. "Harry Potter is not the heir of Slytherin. It's a shame, I might have liked to have met him. The Boy Who Lived. I hear we share some very similar traits."

"But if Potter's not the heir, who is?" Draco asked.

Tom laughed again. "Why, Draco, can you not guess?" His dark eyes gleamed. "I am."

Draco's heart began to pound. He edged closer to the exit, struggling to drag Ginny's limp body with him.

"I have been unleashing the monster on the school!" Tom cried, slowly pacing after him, "I tried once before… But then you saw that."

"You tried to make us believe it was Hagrid," Draco snapped.

Tom chuckled. "Everyone else believed me. Except Dumbledore." His lip curled. "He always knew somehow… But what does it matter? The stupid old man never did anything about it. But I knew that he would. I couldn't risk opening the Chamber again while I was still at Hogwarts. So, I preserved my sixteen year old self in a diary, that at the right time it would be found and used to purge the school of all the mudbloods and those unworthy of magic." He smirked. "You know, Draco, that I'm right. You're a Malfoy." Draco shuddered. "Haven't your parents been telling you your whole life that purebloods are superior to mudbloods?" Tom asked, "We are deserving of magic. It should be kept within our families. Their powers do not hark back to their ancestors. They don't know what it's like to be a true witch or wizard. You, Draco, you're different. You are deserving of magic. It has been a gift from your family, a true legacy, and only those who are truly deserving and destined for greatness can be allowed to use magic. Surely you must understand this? All mudbloods are undeserving. They threaten our very existence and undermine the true legacy of magic." His voice rose in power. He held out his hand. "Come, Draco. Together, we can be great. You know as well as I do that pureblood wizards are meant to wield magic and power. It is the only true path the wizarding world can accept. We cannot have mudbloods— genetic defects, thieves— ruling us. Dictating our lives when _we_ are the true wizards!" His eyes were ablaze with passion and power. "I have been great, Draco. And I will be great again. Join me, or forever regret it."

Draco hesitated. He felt drawn towards Tom, this young man with a magnetic personality. Even as he spoke, he felt his whole body tingle as he recognised the words and phrases his mother and father had repeated to him so many times. Slowly, he let Ginny's limp and cold body sink to the floor. Just beyond Tom he could almost see a faint image of his father, with his long blond hair and pointed face, whispering his name, beckoning him forward. As Draco took a step towards Tom, leaving Ginny's body behind him, he saw his father's face soften, and he began to smile. Finally. Proud of his son.

Draco looked into Tom's eyes. They were a fire, burning brightly into the future, fuelled by passion and desire, urging him forward and calling him home. Draco reached out his hand.

Suddenly, his mind turned to Gryffindor. The red and gold common room, cosy and inviting, the sounds of people laughing and playing games. He thought of the Weasley twins, laughing at some prank they'd pulled off, and Percy bristling in the corner. He thought of Wood and the rest of the Quidditch team, supporting him after his leg was broken. He thought of Hermione, the smartest witch of their age, and the only one, to Draco's frustration, who could ever beat him in tests. He remembered her smile and the gentle touch of her hand, despite his blood status being so different from hers. And her body, now so cold and stiff. She had nearly been a victim of the monster. A victim of Tom Riddle. And finally, he thought of Ron, trapped in the tunnels not far from him. What would happen to him if Draco joined Tom now? Ron would never agree; his family had been labelled as blood traitors for years. Then what? Tom was leaving his sister to die, he surely wouldn't care if the same happened to Ron…

Draco jerked his hand away. Tom's eyes darkened. "Draco?"

A small panic filled Draco's chest. "Help me with Ginny first," he ordered, "help me get her up and out of the Chamber." He dropped down beside her. "Help me restore her."

"I can't do that, I'm afraid," Tom said, "you see, every minute little Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger. She has sacrificed herself for the greater good. Little, _stupid_ Ginny. Telling all her secrets to a diary, to me. Thinking she had at last made a friend." Draco's heart began to sink in his chest. "Oh yes, Draco. It was Ginny who wrote on the walls. Ginny who opened the Chamber. Ginny who set the monster free!"

"No!" Draco shouted, springing to his feet. Tom laughed. "No. She would never—"

"But she did." Tom smirked. "Not quite willingly, it has to be said. She did as I told her to. And when I told her to come down here, she did so. Her energy, her life, will now be mine. I will live again."

Draco shook his head. "You mean you died?"

Tom gave a nasty smile. "In a way, yes. I told you I was the heir of Slytherin. But I didn't tell you the name you might know me better as. Lord Voldemort." A chill shot down Draco's spine. He knew the name so well, knew how his parents spoke of him, but he had rarely heard it uttered aloud before. "I am Lord Voldemort."

Draco stumbled backwards as Tom advanced. "No…"

"Search yourself, Draco, you know I am," Tom hissed, "I am Tom Riddle. I am the heir of Slytherin. I am Lord Voldemort. Your parents were such loyal followers of mine. I believe they still are." He rushed forward. "Join me, Draco. I'll give you another chance. Follow me as your parents do, make them proud. So proud." The image of Lucius Malfoy reappeared, his face contorted with anger and desperation. "Come with me, Draco. We will be great!"

Draco's eyes fell to Ginny, lying pale, near death, on the damp floor of the Chamber. Images of his friends in Gryffindor flashed through his mind, but always returning to Ron and Hermione. His father's face became angrier and angrier. He thought of Ron and Hermione watching on as he signed his life away to Lord Voldemort, knowing the pain and fear it would cause them. Draco raised his wand between him and Tom. "No!"

The image of Draco's father vanished with a small explosion in Draco's mind. "Draco," Tom hissed, "you don't mean this."

"Get away from me!" Draco cried, leaping backwards.

Tom straightened himself. "You'll regret this, Draco. You and your family." He span round and hissed something in Parseltongue. Draco froze, rooted to the spot in horror as the mouth of the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin began to open. Then he made a dash for it, sprinting towards the exit, taking care not to look in the water and catch a glimpse of the basilisk's reflection.

"Prepare to meet your death!" Tom roared.


	19. Chapter 19

Draco sprinted along the length of the Chamber, his feet slipping as he ran. There was a thud and a splash behind him. He could hear the monster slithering towards him. Draco rushed towards the hole he had come through, but Tom shouted again in Parseltongue. The iron door slammed shut. He scrabbled with his fingers, pointed his wand and yelled a few frantic spells. The door remained shut.

He could hear the basilisk coming closer and closer. He screamed. The urge to look back at what was chasing him was overwhelming. He pointed over his shoulder and burst of light erupted from his wand. He heard the basilisk scream, but it didn't stop moving. Draco screamed again, banging on the door of the Chamber.

A cry from above him made him look up. A red and gold creature was swooping towards him, something floppy hanging from its mouth. As it dropped nearer, he saw it was a bird. A phoenix.

Fawkes released the floppy brown item into Draco's hands. Draco turned it over as fast as he could. His hands shook uncontrollably. The Sorting Hat. He threw it on the floor and kicked it away. He hammered again on the door, this time shouting, "Fawkes!"

Screams behind him made him stop and listen, his hands over his head. From the light in the Chamber, he saw the shadows of Fawkes and the basilisk fighting one another.

Tom roared in anger. "Your stupid bird may have blinded the basilisk," he yelled, "but it can still hear you!"

Draco swung round and stared up at the monster before him. It was enormous, dark green and with the largest fangs Draco had ever imagined. In panic, he charged left, through the water and down a side tunnel. The basilisk threw Fawkes off. It dropped back to the ground and gave chase. Draco blasted another spell over his shoulder. Looking back, he saw a dark burn mark on the side of the basilisk where his spell had hit. He fired another but missed.

His breath was rapid and loud. Little squeaks escaped his mouth. The water splashed around his feet. The little tunnel he had dived down opened into many others. He plunged down another, and another. He went to turn down another, but his foot slipped and he plunged into the water. He gasped and gave a little scream, floundering desperately. He hauled himself out, now absolutely sodden. He dashed off again, almost hyperventilating. He considered stopping and hiding, but the dripping of his clothes told him this was no good. He had no choice. He had to keep moving.

Draco's legs whirred on, adrenaline coursing through his body. His heart felt as though it might explode through his chest.

A strange silence made him stop. He looked behind him. The basilisk had gone. He relaxed for a second, before realising what this meant. His stomach turned over. He thought he was going to be sick. He clutched at the wall, but it was smooth and slimy. He backed up against it, wand in hand. His heart was pounding. His head reeled.

A high-pitched roar made him leap out of his skin. The basilisk rounded the corner. Its fangs snapped together, inches from Draco's face. A hissing scream pierced his ears.

Draco screamed. He turned the other way and sprinted down the tunnels, almost falling over. Tears began to run down his cheeks as he retched, clutching at his stomach.

Eventually, he burst out into the Chamber again. He staggered through the water, sending waves rippling through the Chamber. Even through his panic, he noticed something poking out of the hat. He bent down and snatched at it without stopping to inspect. The weight of it shocked him. He stumbled. The basilisk appeared behind him. Draco seized the heavy item and dashed down the other end of the Chamber, towards Ginny's body, towards Tom. He glanced at the item in his hands.

A sword. Silver, inlaid with red rubies. There were some old rune carvings scratched meticulously into the blade. He swung it at Tom, but he jumped aside. "It won't stop until you're dead," Tom snarled, "if that's what you're thinking."

Draco wheeled around and stared up at the basilisk. It was rushing towards him. Suddenly, Draco felt weary. He couldn't fight it, surely not. He looked briefly at the sword. Why bring him a sword? Was his wand not enough? Something within him told him the sword was best. With a sharp pang of fear, he threw down his wand and gripped the sword in both hands. The basilisk reared its head, covered in blood, and lunged for him. Draco swung the sword clumsily, just about scraping the chin of the basilisk. Blood spurted across the Chamber, spraying him and the unconscious Ginny. The basilisk raised itself up again and struck down at him. Draco dropped to the floor and rolled. The basilisk struck the ground next to him. The floor cracked. Draco scrambled to his feet. He needed to get higher. He stared around to see what he could do. On the back wall of the Chamber was Salazar Slytherin. His eyes found small holes and ledges in the waves of Slytherin's hair. He dived towards it, but the basilisk stopped him. It knocked him to the floor with immense force. The sword jumped from Draco's hand. A searing pain shot through his arm. He screamed. One of the basilisk's fangs had pierced the skin where Draco's long, white scar was. In a blind panic, he kicked the basilisk repeatedly until he felt a horrible sensation of the fang being withdrawn from his arm, sliding out past the muscle and flesh, blood oozing out and splattering onto the floor. His head swam. His vision went dark. But somehow he staggered to his feet, gripped the sword, and stumbled towards the statue of Slytherin.

"You can't manage it, Draco," Tom called out, "give up now!"

Draco gritted his teeth. His bloodshot eyes looked as though they might burst from his skull. He raised the sword above his head and cut down clumsily with it. He missed. He tried again. This time, he sliced through the skin just behind the basilisk's ear. His eyes fell onto the top of its head. If only he could stab through its head… that could do it.

The blistering pain in his left arm was almost blinding him. He glanced down at it. His head swam again and he swayed dangerously. Blood was dripping from the wound onto the stone floor. It mingled with the water to create a red puddle around Draco's feet. The arm itself was swollen, and the veins were darkening. The line of the scar from where he'd touched the enchanted fire last year throbbed.

The basilisk threw its whole body down. Draco careered sideways. The basilisk rose again and slammed its body down, aiming to crush him. Draco saw his opportunity. Without thinking, he raised the sword and stabbed it through the top of the basilisk's head.

The basilisk let out a piercing scream and reared, shaking its head to dislodge the sword. Blood spattered the walls and floor. Draco lunged forwards and seized his wand. He held it up in front of him, his hand shaking.

The basilisk swayed in the air and then, slowly, fell to the floor, unmoving. Draco remained where he was. His vision was becoming darker. It was harder to see. Tom approached the basilisk. He touched it gently. Draco didn't lower his wand. The pain in his arm was almost too much to bear. He winced and gasped, feeling as though he might collapse at any moment.

"You," Tom whispered, "you killed…" He turned and glared at Draco. Then he gave a little smile. "But it doesn't matter. Ginny will still be dead. I will return. My followers will flock to me. Your parents will join my side. And you… Well, you'll die down here, too. Alone. In pain."

"Rictusempra," Draco gasped. Tom ducked the spell. Draco opened his mouth to try again, but his arm weakened. The tip of his wand pointed at the floor. His knees gave way and he collapsed.

Tom's lip curled. "Ever the failure. You couldn't even manage to get sorted into Slytherin house. What Malfoy has ever been a Gryffindor?"

Draco looked down at his arm. His veins had turned a nasty shade of purple. He crawled as best he could towards the body of the basilisk.

Tom strode away from him. "I'll kill you," Draco hissed.

"You can't kill me," Tom said proudly, "the Diary is keeping me strong. No, Draco. It's you who will die."

Draco reached Ginny's body. Lying next to her, surrounded by blood and water, was the Diary. He picked it up. He raised his wand and blasted it with a spell. Nothing. Tom laughed. Draco tried again and again, but still nothing. Tom laughed louder and louder, his voice rippling around the Chamber. Draco felt as if the whole world were laughing at him.

"Goodbye, Draco," Tom said. He approached him, bending down until their faces were inches apart. He smirked as Draco rolled over, gasping and shaking with pain. Then, he left them, striding away towards the exit.

Draco's vision was blurry. He could hardly keep his head up. He was swimming in and out of consciousness. He felt something brush up next to him. He panicked, but had no energy to even lift a finger. His head was so heavy he couldn't move it anymore. He let his eyes close.

He could feel something hot on his arm. His eyes opened. His vision brightened. He lifted his head. He could still see Tom walking away from him towards the iron door, towards the cavern where Ron must still be hiding. Draco blinked and everything came into focus. He could see something in Tom's hand. A wand. He looked down. His wand was gone.

As he looked down, something caught his eye. A burst of bright colour in this damp Chamber of dark colours and low lighting. Red and gold. Fawkes. Draco looked at his arm. It was completely healed. He grinned. "Thanks, Fawkes." Gingerly, with one finger, he stroked the top of Fawkes' head. Fawkes raised his beak and took a little nibble of Draco's finger. He jumped and snatched it back. Fawkes gestured with his head at the basilisk. Draco looked down at the Diary in his hands. He crawled to the basilisk and dislodged the sword in its head, just as Tom opened the door to the Chamber.

The sound of the sword made Tom turn around. He saw Draco lifting the sword out of the basilisk, fully alive, the strength returned to his arms. "No you don't!" Tom shouted, raising Draco's wand. He cast a spell that went flying across the Chamber. Draco ducked the flash of green light. Fawkes took to the sky. "Bloody bird!" Tom cried, pointing the wand at Fawkes. Draco gave one final tug and pulled the sword from the head of the basilisk. He kicked the Diary into Tom's view, holding the sword high in the air.

"No," Tom gasped, "no. No, Draco. Don't you dare!"

Draco stabbed the sword into the Diary with all his might. Tom screamed, the deadly spell lost on his lips. Draco stabbed again and again. He kept on stabbing hearing only Tom's screams, not daring to look up. Suddenly, there was silence. A little clatter. Draco looked up. Tom had vanished. Draco's wand lay on the floor.

Ginny stirred. Draco dropped to her side and lifted her up. Her eyes filled with tears as soon as she saw him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I had the Diary. I wrote in it. Tom Riddle, he got me to do terrible things—"

Draco nodded. "I know. I know what you did. How you could be so stupid? He was You Know Who."

Ginny's chin trembled. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered, "I'm sorry." She took a shuddering breath.

"I could have died trying to rescue you," Draco said. Ginny nodded miserably. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Draco took a deep breath, fighting against his instinct to ridicule her and demand that she owed him. "Let's go, Ron's waiting."

"Ron's here?"

"Yeah. And Lockhart. Except he doesn't know that."

Draco helped her to her feet. He took the Diary and sword with him. He collected his wand, and the two of them, along with Fawkes, climbed out the door and through the tunnels to find Ron and Lockhart and return to the school.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco, Ron, Lockhart and Ginny stood wearily at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The door swung open. Mrs Weasley sat by the fire, crying. Mr Weasley held her shoulder, his face grey and drawn. As the door opened, they both looked up. "Ginny!" Mrs Weasley shrieked, rushing across the room and taking her daughter into her arms, squeezing her tightly. Mr Weasley darted over and hugged Ron, followed by his wife and daughter.

Mrs Weasley wiped the tears from her eyes and touched Ron's cheek. "Oh, Ron. How did you save her?"

"It wasn't me," Ron said, "it was—" But Mrs Weasley had already turned to Professor Lockhart. Despite her distress, her a little smile crept onto her face, and her cheeks turned pink. "I don't know how we can ever thank you enough," she began.

Lockhart looked at her, puzzled. "Thank me for what?" He frowned. "Who are you?"

"No, not Lockhart, mum," Ron mumbled, "Draco."

Mr and Mrs Weasley stared at the pale boy covered in mud and blood, still dripping with water, standing in front of them.

"Draco Malfoy?" Mr Weasley asked. He stared at Ron, then Draco, back to Ron, and then back to Draco. "Draco Malfoy? Lucius' son? Saved my Ginny?"

Mrs Weasley blinked rapidly. "Surely…" She licked her lips. "But… but Arthur, I thought you said you and Mr Malfoy…"

"I did, Molly," Mr Weasley said, a curious and confused smile on his face, "I did."

"It's true," Ginny added, "Draco woke me up, killed the monster and got us all out of the Chamber."

"Well I never," Mr Weasley said softly, "did you really?" Draco nodded. "Merlin's underpants," Mr Weasley muttered. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm very grateful to you, Draco."

Draco looked as Mr Weasley's hand. He had heard his father speak often of Mr Weasley, but had never met the man himself, except for that day back in Diagon Alley, in Flourish and Blotts, buying Lockhart's books for the start of the school year. It felt so long ago now. As did everything his father had told him about the Weasleys.

Draco took his hand and shook it. "And I thought you would be just like your father," Mr Weasley said, "I'm very glad to discover you're not." Draco said nothing.

Mrs Weasley looked down at the little scrap of a boy in front of her. "Thank you, Draco," she said, "that was very good of you." She patted his shoulder. Draco got the impression that they were still somewhat nervous of him, or perhaps more accurately, his family, but the warmth of the gestures was still genuine.

"I think it best," Dumbledore interrupted from his desk, "if Mr and Mrs Weasley took Ginny up to the hospital wing. She has suffered a terrible ordeal at the hands of an extremely dark wizard. Ron, you might take Professor Lockhart with you." His eyes twinkled.

Lockhart pointed at himself. "Am I a Professor?"

"Draco, come here." Dumbledore beckoned Draco closer. Draco crossed the room and placed the sword, hat and Diary on the desk.

Dumbledore beamed. "You have done very well, Draco. I hope you know that." Draco shrugged. "You must have shown your house great loyalty in the Chamber," Dumbledore said. He tapped the sword with his fingers. "This isn't just any sword, Draco. It belonged to Godric Gryffindor."

Draco looked at the rubies set into the hilt, now splattered with blood and slime. "So?"

"Only a true Gryffindor could pull that from the hat." His eyes watched Draco very carefully. Draco didn't react. "You still don't believe you're a true Gryffindor, do you?"

"I'm not. I'm a Malfoy. I still think the Hat made a mistake."

"Are you still unhappy in Gryffindor?"

Draco remembered the moment in the Chamber when Tom had almost persuaded him to join him. He remembered the images of Gryffindor that had leapt across his mind. "No…" he said, "but…"

"But?"

"Tom… he was You Know Who."

Dumbledore seemed unsurprised. "Yes, that's right."

Draco frowned. "You're not surprised."

Dumbledore sighed. "I taught Tom Riddle. I saw him return as Lord Voldemort."

"But I thought You Know Who was—"

"Voldemort, Draco, please. If we fear the name it increases fear of the actual thing." He gestured for him to continue.

Draco took a deep breath. "I thought Voldemort was hiding in the forests of Albania?"

"He is," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "I shan't worry you with it now. But Tom Riddle was the young man that Voldemort used to be, and his memory and soul preserved in this diary. You must be commended for destroying it." He gently ran his hand across it. "Curious…"

"What is?"

"Nothing, Draco. Nothing for now."

Draco frowned in frustration. "Do you ever tell anyone anything?" he snapped.

Dumbledore chuckled. His eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. He straightened the red and gold brocade hat on his head. "What would you like to know?"

The broadness of the question threw him. His face flickered as his mind rushed to find a question to ask. "Potter and Tom Riddle," he said suddenly. Dumbledore's eyes widened. "I couldn't help but notice their similarities. They both look similar. They both speak parseltongue. They're both in Slytherin! Was Potter truly the heir after all?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No. It is mere coincidence that they look similar, however it is more than coincidence that binds them in other areas. But Harry Potter is not the heir of Slytherin."

"Then why are they so similar?"

"I believe this is a conversation for Mr Potter and myself," Dumbledore said kindly, "it is not for you to know. Not yet."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone always say I have to wait until I'm older? I want to know now! I'm not stupid, you know."

"Oh, I know that very well," Dumbledore said, "I was looking at your grades just the other day, and for the mischief you get up to, you manage to keep up your school grades very well."

Draco shrugged. "Mr father always told me that being better than everyone else was always best."

"Did he?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Shall I tell you what I think? I think that being respected— for the right reasons— is infinitely better than beating your peers."

The door behind them flew open with a bang. Draco jumped out of his skin. He span round to see who it was. "Father?"

"Draco." Lucius Malfoy froze where he stood, his face a mixture of pure anger and sudden confusion. Behind him, wrapped in bandages, was their house elf, Dobby. Draco remembered what Harry had told him in the hospital wing; Dobby had been visiting him, trying to prevent him from returning to Hogwarts. "Dumbledore."

"Lucius."

Lucius Malfoy swept forward, his cane smacking the floor. His eyes looked down on his son. "Draco," he said again, "thank goodness you're safe." His gloved hand patted Draco on the shoulder, just as Mrs Weasley had five minutes ago. But this time it was different. Stiff. Cold. Lucius made a sharp gesture for Draco to move aside.

"Even though you have been suspended from the school," Lucius hissed to Dumbledore, "you saw fit to return." His eyes blazed.

"Well, you see, Lucius," Dumbledore said calmly, "I was caught in something like a hailstorm of owls this morning, from all eleven governors, demanding that I return immediately. They had heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and thought I was the best man for the job. Curiously, they were under the impression that you would curse their families had they not agreed to suspend me in the first place."

Lucius' face twitched. His eyes flickered in Draco's direction, but in a flash had adopted a stony glare, fixed on Dumbledore. "Really?" he hissed, "And have you caught the culprit?"

"Indeed. It was the same one as last time."

"Your gamekeeper."

"Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore watched Lucius carefully for a moment. The latter gave an uncomfortable shrug. Dumbledore tapped the Diary. "He used this to control Miss Weasley with very powerful dark magic. I am still curious as to how she obtained such a dangerous, personal object of Lord Voldemort's…"

"As are we all," Lucius said, forcing his voice to remain calm.

Draco's eyes fell to Dobby, crouching, covered in clumsy bandages through which he could still see burns and cuts. His heart quickened.

"Now," Dumbledore smiled at Draco, "if it hadn't been for your son, who showed extreme courage in the Chamber, Ginny Weasley would be dead, her family ruined and the school forced to close. He has made his school very proud." He looked sternly at Lucius. "And his family, too, I hope. I know the Weasleys are certainly very grateful."

Lucius licked his lips, trying to maintain his calm exterior. "The Weasleys," he whispered to himself, "of course. We are all so proud of Draco for his actions in the Chamber. Most fortunate, indeed, that he saved that little girl."

"And Mr Weasley's career, I should imagine."

"Of course." Lucius straightened up. "I do not think I wish my son to return for his third year at this school."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. His stomach turned over, and a panic filled him all over again.

"No?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "But he is the hero of the school. It is thanks to him that the school will reopen for his third year. And surely, you, as a governor of the school, would not withdraw your son, to whom we are all so very indebted."

The muscle in Lucius' jaw twitched. "Very well. But I demand that he leaves with me immediately."

"Will you not let him remain for the end of year feast, at least?" Dumbledore asked, "He makes a very important appearance in my end of year speech, and I would hate for him to miss it. I remember how much you used to enjoy the end of year feasts."

Lucius' face contorted. "Very well!" he spat, "But then, straight home. With me. Not that infernal train." He glared at Draco. "Go!" he snapped, gesturing sharply for Draco to leave. Draco looked down at Dobby again. Dobby caught his eye, gave a little squeak, and hid his face. Draco hurried to the door, and then from there onto the Gryffindor common room, scrubbing a tear from his cheek with the flat of his hand.

"Cheer up, Draco," Ron said cheerfully, helping himself to another chicken drumstick. Draco prodded the food on his plate. "This is one of the best feasts ever to happen at Hogwarts!"

Everyone was dressed in pyjamas and celebrations were set to last into the early morning. Only Draco sat fully clothed, knowing that he would be leaving immediately after it ended. He tried to force himself to eat something, but he had no appetite.

"Ron! Draco! Look!" Neville cried, pointing. The doors of the Great Hall swung open. Everyone craned their necks to see. Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Ravenclaw prefect, Colin Creevey and Hermione stumbled through the doors, dazed at the sight of the extravagant midnight feast. Nearly Headless Nick floated through the wall, tipping his head as the whole hall exploded in applause. They rushed to their respective houses and Hermione threw her arms around Ron and then Draco. "You did so well," she whispered in his ear, "Mr and Mrs Weasley couldn't stop praising you." She let him go and beamed at him. "You must have been so brave, and so loyal to Gryffindor."

Draco shrugged. He explained the demands of his father. She squeezed his arm. "We'll write to you," she promised, but Draco had a feeling that any letters she or Ron sent would never reach him.

But after Hermione's arrival, Draco's spirits did lift. At the announcement that his and Ron's actions had made Gryffindor win the house cup for a second year running, he joined the other Gryffindors jumping on the benches and shouting, "Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor!" while all the teachers— except Snape— laughed and clapped along, and Filch danced at the back of the hall with Mrs Norris in his arms. And when Hagrid entered into the hall at half past three in the morning, the celebrations were deafening.

His father's unfeeling arm, and the excruciating whirling and pulling sensation of apparating back to the Malfoy Manor crushed the excitement in Draco's chest almost instantly. The clock in the hall chimed five o' clock in the morning. Lucius pulled his arm away from Draco's and marched up the darkened staircase with a roar of anger. Just as he reached the top, he stopped, his eyes burning and blazing through the darkness. "You'll be lucky if you ever get back to that damned school ever again," he hissed. Then he wheeled around and smacked Dobby with his cane repeatedly, shouting over Dobby's screams, until the tiny, fragile house elf crashed to the bottom of the stairs and lay limply on the floor. Narcissa emerged from a room upstairs. She saw Draco standing in the vast hall and made a move to go to him. But Lucius put his arm out, barring her way. She hesitated, but then turned and returned to her room, followed by her husband. A distant door slammed.

Draco turned back to the front door. Enormous bolts covered it. Had they not, he might have left then and there, suitcase in hand. He shivered in the cold air. A shard of moonlight reflected off the mirror in the hall and washed his face in pale light. With a sob that shook his body, he sank to the floor, hiding his face from the light and covering his head in the shadows.


End file.
